LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

RECEIVED    BY    EXCHANGE 

Class 


WAR  FROM  THE  INSIDE 


COLONEL    FREDERICK     L.    HITCHCOCK 


MONUMENT    OF     I32D     REGIMENT,    P.    V. 

ERECTED    BY   THE  STATE  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  ON   BATTLE-F1EID  OF  ANTIETAM,    MD. 
DEDICATED  SEPT.    I  7,    1904 

It  stands  about  two  hundred  yards  directly  in  front  of  the  battle  line  upon  which 
this  regiment  fought,  on  the  side  of  the  famous  "  Sunken  Road  "  occupied  by  the 
Confederates. 

This  road  has  since  been  widened  and  macadamized  as  a  government  road 
leading  from  "Bloody  Lane"  towards  Sharpsburg. 


WAR 
FROM  THE  INSIDE 


THE    STORY    OF  THE    I32ND    REGIMENT 
PENNSYLVANIA   VOLUNTEER  INFAN 
TRY  IN  THE  WAR  FOR  THE  SUP 
PRESSION  OF  THE  REBELLION 


UNIVERSI  T  I  $62-1863 


O 


BY 


FREDERICK  L.  HITCHCOCK 

LATE  ADJUTANT  AND  MAJOR 

I32ND  PENNSYLVANIA 

VOLUNTEERS. 


Published  by  authority  of  the  i32nd  Regiment  Pennsylvania 
Volunteer  Infantry  Association. 


PRESS  OF  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA 

1904 


Copyright,  1903 
BY  F.  L.  HITCHCOCK 


PREFACE 


THIS  narrative  was  originally  written  without  the  least 
idea  of  publication,  but  to  gratify  the  oft-repeated  requests 
of  my  children.  During  the  work,  the  ubiquitous  news 
paper  reporter  learned  of  it,  and  persuaded  me  to  per 
mit  its  publication  in  a  local  paper,  where  it  appeared 
in  weekly  instalments.  Since  then  the  demand  that  I 
should  put  it  in  more  permanent  form  has  been  so  per 
sistent  and  wide-spread,  that  I  have  been  constrained  to 
comply,  and  have  carefully  revised  and  in  part  rewritten 
it.  I  have  endeavored  to  confine  myself  to  my  own  obser 
vations,  experiences,  and  impressions,  giving  the  inner  life 
of  the  soldier  as  we  experienced  it.  It  was  my  good  for 
tune  to  be  associated  with  one  of  the  best  bodies  of  men 
who  took  part  in  the  great  Civil  War;  to  share  in  their 
hardships  and  their  achievements.  For  this  I  am  pro 
foundly  grateful.  Their  story  is  my  own.  If  these  splen 
did  gray-headed  "  boys" — those  who  have  not  yet  passed 
the  mortal  firing-line — shall  find  some  pleasure  in  again 
tramping  over  that  glorious  route,  and  recalling  the  his 
toric  scenes,  and  if  the  younger  generation  shall  gather 
inspiration  for  a  like  patriotic  dedication  to  country 

7 


188232 


Preface 

and  to  liberty,  I  shall  be  more  than  paid  for  my  im 
perfect  work.  In  conclusion,  I  desire  to  acknowledge 
my  indebtedness  to  Major  James  W.  Oakford,  son  of 
our  intrepid  colonel,  who  was  the  first  of  the  regiment 
to  fall,  and  to  Mr.  Lewis  B.  Stillwell,  son  of  that  brave 
and  splendid  officer,  Captain  Richard  Stillwell,  Company 
K,  who  was  wounded  and  disabled  at  Fredericksburg, 
for  constant  encouragement  in  the  preparation  of  the 
work  and  for  assistance  in  its  publication. 

SCRANTON,  PA.,  April  5,  1904. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — FIRST  LESSONS  ;  OR,  DOING  THE  IMPOSSIBLE 13 

II. — THE   ORGANIZATION   AND   MAKE-UP  OF  THE   FIGHTING 

MACHINE  CALLED  "  THE  ARMY"  22 

III.— ON  THE  MARCH  35 

IV. — DRAWING  NEAR  THE  ENEMY — BATTLE  OF  SOUTH  MOUN 
TAIN — PRELIMINARY  SKIRMISHES  46 

V. — THE  BATTLE  OF  ANTIETAM  55 

VI. — THE  BATTLE  OF  ANTIETAM — CONTINUED 68 

VII. — HARPER'S    FERRY   AND   THE  LEESBURG   AND   HALLTOWN 

EXPEDITIONS  79 

VIII. — FROM  HARPER'S  FERRY  TO  FREDERIC KSBURG  94 

IX. — THE  FREDERICKSBURG  CAMPAIGN  108 

X. — THE  BATTLE  OF  FREDERICKSBURG — CONTINUED  120 

XL — WHY  FREDERICKSBURG  WAS  LOST  132 

XIL— LOST  COLORS  RECOVERED 141 

XIII.— THE  WINTER  AT  FALMOUTH  158 

XIV.— THE  WINTER  AT  FALMOUTH — CONTINUED 179 

XV. — THE  BATTLE  OF  CHANCELLORSVILLE  200 

XVI. — THE  BATTLE  OF  CHANCELLORSVILLE — CONTINUED  220 

XVII. — THE  MUSTER  OUT  AND  HOME  AGAIN  239 

APPENDIX    251 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


After  the  lapse  of  more  than  forty  years,  I  hardly  hoped  to  be  able  to  publish 
pictures  of  all  our  officers,  and  have  been  more  than  pleased  to  secure  so  many. 
The  others,  I  regret  to  say,  could  not  be  obtained.  The  youthful  appearance  of  these 
officers  will  be  remarked.  All,  I  believe,  with  the  exception  of  Colonel  Oakford 
were  below  thirty  years,  and  most  between  twenty  and  twenty-five. 


Colonel  Frederick  L.  Hitchcock  Frontispiece 

The  Monument   Facing  title-page 

Groups  of  Captains  16 

Group,  Chaplain  and  Surgeons  22 

Colonel  Charles  Albright  44 

Colonel  Vincent  M.  Wilcox 50 

Colonel  Richard  A.  Oakford   59 

The  Silenced  Confederate  Battery 62 

The  Sunken  Road  71 

Field  Hospital 76 

Groups  of  Lieutenants  120 

Major  Frederick  L.  Hitchcock  167 

Don  and  I,  and  glimpse  of  Camp  of  Hancock's  Division,  Fal- 

mouth,  Va 171 

Reunion  I32d  Regiment,  P.  V.,  1891,  on  Battle-field  of  Antietam.  200 


ii 


WAR  FROM  THE  INSIDE 


CHAPTER    I 


FIRST  LESSONS;    OR,  DOING  THE  IMPOSSIBLE 

I  WAS  appointed  adjutant  of  the  One  Hundred  and 
Thirty-second  Regiment,  Pennsylvania  Volunteers,  by  our 
great  war  Governor,  Andrew  G.  Curtin,  at  the  solicitation 
of  Colonel  Richard  A.  Oakford,  commanding  the  regi 
ment,  my  commission  dating  the  22d  day  of  August,  1862. 
I  reported  for  duty  to  Colonel  Oakford  at  Camp  Whipple, 
where  the  regiment  was  then  encamped,  on  the  3d  day  of 
September,  1862.  This  was  immediately  following  the 
disasters  of  "  Chantilly"  and  "  Second  Bull  Run,"  and  as 
I  passed  through  Washington  to  Camp  Whipple,  I  found 
the  greatest  excitement  prevailing  because  of  these  re 
verses,  and  a  general  apprehension  for  the  safety  of  the 
capital  in  consequence.  The  wildest  rumors  were  abroad 
concerning  the  approach  of  the  victorious  rebel  troops,  and 
an  alarm  amounting  almost  to  a  panic  existed.  Being 
without  a  horse  or  other  means  of  transportation,  I  was 
obliged  to  make  my  way,  valise  in  hand,  on  foot  from 
Washington  over  the  "  long  bridge"  across  the  Potomac, 
to  Camp  Whipple,  some  two  miles  up  the  river  nearly 
opposite  Georgetown.  From  the  wild  rumors  floating 

13 


War  from  the  Inside 

about  Washington,  I  did  not  know  but  I  should  be  cap 
tured  bag  and  baggage  before  reaching  camp.  Under 
taking  this  trip  under  those  circumstances,  I  think,  re 
quired  almost  as  much  nerve  as  "  real  work"  did  later  on. 

Getting  beyond  the  long  bridge  there  were  abundant  evi 
dences  of  the  reported  disasters.  Straggling  troops,  army 
wagons,  etc.,  were  pouring  in  from  the  "  front"  in  great 
disorder.  I  reached  camp  about  three  o'clock  P.M.  and 
found  Colonel  Oakford  out  with  the  regiment  on  battalion 
drill.  An  hour  later  I  reported  to  his  office  (tent)  as 
ready  for  duty.  The  colonel  had  been  a  lifelong  personal 
friend,  and  I  was  received,  as  I  expected,  most  cordially. 
I  was  assigned  quarters,  and  a  copy  of  the  daily  routine 
orders  of  camp  was  placed  in  my  hands,  and  my  attention 
specially  called  to  the  fact  that  the  next  "  order  of  busi 
ness"  was  "  dress  parade"  at  six  o'clock.  I  inquired  the 
cause  of  this  special  notice  to  me,  and  was  informed  that 
I  was  expected  to  officiate  as  adjutant  of  the  regiment 
at  that  ceremony.  I  pleaded  with  the  colonel  to  be 
allowed  a  day  or  so  in  camp  to  see  how  things  were 
done  before  undertaking  such  difficult  and  important 
duties;  that  I  knew  absolutely  nothing  about  any  part 
of  military  service;  had  never  served  a  day  in  any  kind 
of  military  work,  except  in  a  country  fire  company;  had 
never  seen  a  dress  parade  of  a  full  regiment  in  my  life, 
and  knew  nothing  whatever  about  the  duties  of  an 
adjutant. 

My  pleadings  were  all  in  vain.  The  only  reply  I  re 
ceived  was  a  copy  of  the  "  Army  Regulations,"  with  the 
remark  that  I  had  two  hours  in  which  to  study  up  and 
master  the  details  of  dress  parade,  and  that  I  could  not 

14 


First  Lessons;  or,  Doing  the  Impossible 

learn  my  duties  any  easier  nor  better  than  by  actual  prac 
tice  ;  that  my  condition  was  no  different  from  that  of  my 
fellow  officers ;  that  we  were  all  there  in  a  camp  of  instruc 
tion  learning  our  duties,  and  there  was  not  a  moment  to 
lose.  I  then  began  to  realize  something  of  the  magnitude 
of  the  task  which  lay  before  me.  To  do  difficult  things, 
without  knowing  how ;  that  is,  to  learn  how  in  the  doing, 
was  the  universal  task  of  the  Union  volunteer  officer.  I 
took  up  my  "  Army  Regulations"  and  attacked  the  cere 
mony  of  dress  parade  as  a  life  and  death  matter.  Before 
my  two  hours  were  ended,  I  could  repeat  every  sentence  of 
the  ceremony  verbatim,  and  felt  that  I  had  mastered  the 
thing,  and  was  not  going  to  my  execution  in  undertaking 
my  duties  as  adjutant.  Alas  for  the  frailty  of  memory; 
it  failed  me  at  the  crucial  moment,  and  I  made  a  miserable 
spectacle  of  myself  before  a  thousand  officers  and  men, 
many  of  them  old  friends  and  acquaintances,  all  of  whom, 
it  seemed  to  me,  were  specially  assembled  on  that  occasion 
to  witness  my  debut,  and  see  me  get  "  balled  up."  They 
were  not  disappointed.  Things  tactically  impossible  were 
freely  done  during  that  ceremony.  Looking  back  now 
upon  that  scene,  from  the  long  distance  of  forty  years,  I 
see  a  green  country  boy  undertaking  to  handle  one  thou 
sand  men  in  the  always  difficult  ceremony  of  a  dress 
parade.  (I  once  heard  Governor  Hartranft,  who  attained 
the  rank  of  a  major-general  during  the  war,  remark,  as  he 
witnessed  this  ceremony,  that  he  had  seen  thousands  of 
such  parades,  and  among  them  all,  only  one  that  he  con 
sidered  absolutely  faultless.)  I  wonder  now  that  we  got 
through  it  at  all.  Think  of  standing  to  give  your  first 
command  at  the  right  of  a  line  of  men  five  hundred 

15 


War  from  the  Inside 

abreast,  that  is,  nearly  one  thousand  feet  in  length,  and 
trying  to  make  the  men  farthest  away  hear  your  small, 
unused,  and  untrained  voice.  I  now  can  fully  forgive 
my  failure.  The  officers  and  men  were  considerate  of 
me,  however,  and,  knowing  what  was  to  be  done,  went 
through  with  it  after  a  fashion  in  spite  of  my  blunders. 

The  regiment  was  one  of  the  "  nine  months'  "  quota; 
it  had  been  in  the  service  barely  two  weeks  at  this  time.  It 
was  made  up  of  two  companies,  I  and  K,  from  Scranton 
( Captains  James  Archbald,  Company  I,  and  Richard  Still- 
well,  Company  K),  Company  A,  Danville,  Pa.;  B, 
Factoryville ;  C,  Wellsboro  and  vicinity ;  E,  Bloomsburg ; 
F  and  G,  Mauch  Chunk,  and  H,  Catawissa.  It  numbered, 
officers  and  men,  about  one  thousand.  Its  field  officers 
were  Colonel  Richard  A.  Oakford,  Scranton;  Lieuten 
ant-Colonel  Vincent  M.  Wilcox,  Scranton;  Major 
Charles  Albright,  Mauch  Chunk;  staff,  Frederick  L. 
Hitchcock,  first  lieutenant  and  adjutant,  Scranton;  Clin 
ton  W.  Neal,  first  lieutenant  and  quartermaster,  Blooms- 
burg;  Rev.  Schoonmaker,  first  lieutenant  and  chaplain, 
Scranton. 

The  transition  from  home  life  to  that  of  an  army  in  the 
field  can  only  be  appreciated  from  a  stand-point  of  actual 
experience.  From  a  well-ordered,  well-cooked  meal, 
served  at  a  comfortable  table  with  the  accessories  of  home, 
howsoever  humble,  to  a  "  catch  as  catch  can"  way  of 
getting  "  grub/'  eating  what,  and  when  and  where,  you 
are  fortunate  enough  to  get  to  eat;  and  from  a  good, 
comfortable  bed,  comfortably  housed  in  a  comfortable 
home,  to  a  blanket  "  shake  down"  under  the  beau 
tiful  sky,  mark  some  of  the  features  of  this  transition. 

16 


CAPT.    MARTIN     M.    BROBST 
CO.    H 


CAPT.    WARNER     H.    CARNOCHAN 
CO.    D 


CAPT.    GEO.    W.    WILHELM 
CO.    F 


CAPT.    SMITH   W.    INGHAM 
CO.    B 


CAPT.    CHAS.     M    DOUGAL 
CO.    C 


CAPT.    RICHARD    STILLWELL 
CO.    K 


CAPT.    JAMES    ARCHBALD,    JR. 
CO.    I 


CAPT.    CHARLES    C.    NORRIS 
CO.    A 


CAPT.    JACOB     D.    LACIAR 
CO.    F 


CAPT.    JACOB     B.    FLOYD 
CO.    K 


CAPT.    ROBERT    A.    ABBOTT 
CO.    G 


First  Lessons;  or,  Doing  the  Impossible 

Another  feature  is  the  utter  change  in  one's  individual 
liberty.  To  be  no  longer  the  arbiter  of  your  own  time  and 
movements,  but  to  have  it  rubbed  into  you  at  every  turn 
that  you  are  a  very  small  part  of  an  immense  machine, 
whose  business  is  to  march  and  fight;  that  your  every 
movement  is  under  the  control  of  your  superior  officers; 
that,  in  fact,  you  have  no  will  of  your  own  that  can  be 
exercised;  that  your  individuality  is  for  the  time  sunk, 
is  a  trial  to  an  American  freeman  which  patriotism  alone 
can  overcome.  Not  the  least  feature  of  this  transition  is 
the  practical  obliteration  of  the  Lord's  day.  This  is  a 
great  shock  to  a  Christian  who  has  learned  to  love  the 
Lord's  day  and  its  hallowed  associations.  Routine  duty, 
the  march,  the  fighting,  all  go  right  on,  nothing  stops  for 
Sunday. 

On  the  morning  after  reaching  camp  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  Major-General  John  Pope,  who  commanded  the 
Union  forces  in  the  recent  battles  of  Chantilly  and  Second 
Bull  Run,  and  his  staff,  riding  past  camp  into  Washing 
ton.  He  hailed  us  with  a  cheery  "  Good-morning"  in 
reply  to  our  salute.  He  did  not  look  like  a  badly  defeated 
general,  though  he  undoubtedly  was — so  badly,  indeed, 
that  he  was  never  given  any  command  of  importance 
afterwards. 

On  Saturday,  September  6,  we  received  orders  to  join 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac — again  under  the  command  of 
"  Little  Mac" — at  Rockville,  Md.,  distant  about  eighteen 
miles.  This  was  our  first  march.  The  day  was  ex 
cessively  hot,  and  Colonel  Oakford  received  permission  to 
march  in  the  evening.  We  broke  camp  about  six  o'clock 
P.M.  It  was  a  lovely  moonlight  night,  the  road  was  ex- 
2  17 


War  from  the  Inside 

cellent,  and  for  the  first  six  miles  the  march  was  a  delight. 
We  marched  quite  leisurely,  not  making  over  two  miles  an 
hour,  including  rests,  nevertheless  the  last  half  of  the  dis 
tance  was  very  tiresome,  owing  to  the  raw  and  unseasoned 
condition  of  our  men,  and  the  heavy  load  they  were  carry 
ing.  We  reached  the  bivouac  of  the  grand  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  of  which  we  were  henceforth  to  be  a  part,  at 
about  three  o'clock  the  next  morning.  Three  miles  out 
from  the  main  camp  we  encountered  the  outpost  of  the 
picket  line  and  were  duly  halted.  The  picket  officer  had 
been  informed  of  our  coming,  and  so  detained  us  only  long 
enough  to  satisfy  himself  that  we  were  all  right. 

Here  we  encountered  actual  conditions  of  war  with  all 
its  paraphernalia  for  the  first  time.  Up  to  this  time  we 
had  been  playing  at  war,  so  to  speak,  in  a  camp  of  instruc 
tion.  Now  we  were  entering  upon  the  thing  itself,  with 
all  its  gruesome  accessories.  Everything  here  was  busi 
ness,  and  awful  business,  too.  Here  were  parks  of  ar 
tillery  quiet  enough  just  now,  but  their  throats  will  speak 
soon  enough,  and  when  they  do  it  will  not  be  the  harmless 
booming  of  Fourth  of  July  celebrations.  Here  we  pass 
a  bivouac  of  cavalry,  and  yonder  on  either  side  the  road, 
in  long  lines  of  masses,  spread  out  like  wide  swaths  of 
grain,  lie  the  infantry  behind  long  rows  of  stacked  guns. 
Here  were  upward  of  seventy-five  thousand  men,  all, 
except  the  cordon  of  pickets,  sound  asleep.  In  the  midst 
of  this  mighty  host  the  stillness  was  that  of  a  graveyard ; 
it  seemed  almost  oppressive. 

Halting  the  regiment,  Colonel  Oakford  and  I  made  our 
way  to  the  head-quarters  of  Major-General  Sumner,  com 
manding  the  Second  Army  Corps,  to  whom  the  colonel 

18 


First  Lessons;  or,  Doing  the  Impossible 

was  ordered  to  report.  We  finally  found  him  asleep  in  his 
head-quarters  wagon.  A  tap  on  the  canvas  top  of  the 
wagon  quickly  brought  the  response,  "  Hello !  Who's 
there?  What's  wanted ?" 

Colonel  Oakford  replied,  giving  his  name  and  rank,  and 
that  his  regiment  was  here  to  report  to  him,  according  to 
orders. 

"  Oh,  yes,  colonel,  that  is  right,"  replied  the  general. 
"  How  many  men  have  you  ?" 

Receiving  the  colonel's  answer,  General  Sumner  said : 

"  I  wish  you  had  ten  times  as  many,  for  we  need  you 
badly.  Glad  you  are  here,  colonel.  Make  yourselves  as 
comfortable  as  you  can  for  the  rest  of  the  night,  and  I  will 
assign  you  to  your  brigade  in  the  morning." 

Here  was  a  cordial  reception  and  hospitality  galore. 
"  Make  yourselves  comfortable" — in  Hotel  "  Dame  Na 
ture  !"  Well,  we  were  all  weary  enough  to  accept  the  hos 
pitality.  We  turned  into  the  adjacent  field,  "  stacked 
arms,"  and  in  a  jiffy  were  rolled  up  in  our  blankets  and 
sound  asleep.  The  mattresses  supplied  by  Madame  Nature 
were  rather  hard,  but  her  rooms  were  fresh  and  airy,  and 
the  ceilings  studded  with  the  stars  of  glory.  My  last 
waking  vision  that  night  was  a  knowing  wink  from 
Jupiter  and  Mars,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  sleep  sweetly,  we 
are  here." 

The  morning  sun  was  well  up  before  we  got  ourselves 
together  the  next  morning.  The  "  reveille"  had  no  terrors 
for  us  greenhorns  then.  We  found  ourselves  in  the  midst 
of  a  division  of  the  bronzed  old  Army  of  the  Potomac 
veterans.  They  were  swarming  all  over  us,  and  how  un 
mercifully  they  did  guy  us !  A  regiment  of  tenderfeet  was 

19 


War  from  the  Inside 

just  taffy  for  those  fellows.  Did  our  "  Ma's  know  we 
were  out?"  "  Get  off  those  purty  duds."  "  Oh,  you  blue 
cherub!"  etc.,  etc.,  at  the  same  time  accepting  (?)  with 
out  a  murmur  all  the  tobacco  and  other  camp  rarities  they 
could  reach. 

We  were  soon  visited  by  Brigadier-General  Nathan 
Kimball,  a  swarthy,  grizzly-bearded  old  gentleman,  with 
lots  of  fire  and  energy  in  his  eyes.  He  told  the  colonel  our 
regiment  had  been  assigned  to  his  brigade.  He  directed 
the  colonel  to  get  the  regiment  in  line,  as  he  had  something 
to  say  to  the  men,  after  which  he  would  direct  us  where  to 
join  his  troops.  General  Kimball  commanded  a  brigade 
which  had  achieved  a  great  reputation  under  McClellan  in 
his  West  Virginia  campaign,  and  it  had  been  named  by 
him  the  "  Gibraltar  brigade."  It  had  also  been  through 
the  Peninsular  and  Second  Bull  Run  campaigns.  It  had 
comprised  the  Fourth  and  Eighth  Ohio,  Fourteenth  In 
diana  and  Seventh  West  Virginia  regiments,  all  of  which 
had  been  reduced  by  hard  service  to  mere  skeleton  regi 
ments.  The  Fourth  Ohio  had  become  so  small  as  to  re 
quire  its  withdrawal  from  the  army  for  recuperation,  and 
our  regiment  was  to  take  its  place. 

To  step  into  the  shoes  of  one  of  these  old  regiments  was 
business,  indeed,  for  us.  Could  we  do  it  and  keep  up  our 
end  ?  It  was  certainly  asking  a  great  deal  of  a  two  weeks' 
old  regiment.  But  it  was  the  making  of  us.  We  were 
now  a  part  of  the  old  Gibraltar  brigade.  Our  full  address 
now  was  "  One  Hundred  and  Thirty-second  Pennsylvania 
Volunteers,  First  Brigade,  Third  Division,  Second  Army 
Corps,  Army  of  the  Potomac."  Our  own  reputation  we 
were  now  to  make.  We  were  on  probation  in  the  brigade, 

20 


First  Lessons;  or,  Doing  the  Impossible 

so  to  speak.  These  veterans  were  proud,  and  justly  so,  of 
their  reputation.  What  our  relation  to  that  reputation  was 
to  be,  we  could  see  was  a  mooted  question  with  them. 
They  guyed  us  without  measure  until  the  crucial  test,  the 
"  baptism  of  fire,"  had  been  passed.  This  occurred  just 
ten  days  later,  at  the  battle  of  Antietam,  the  greatest  battle 
of  the  war  thus  far,  where  for  four  bloody  hours  we  held 
our  section  of  the  brigade  line  as  stanch  as  a  rock.  Here 
we  earned  our  footing.  Henceforth  we  belonged  to  them. 
There  was  never  another  syllable  of  guying,  but  in  its  place 
the  fullest  meed  of  such  praise  and  comradeship  as  is  born 
only  of  brave  and  chivalrous  men. 


21 


CHAPTER   II 


THE    ORGANIZATION    AND    MAKE-UP    OF    THE    FIGHTING 
MACHINE  CALLED   "  THE  ARMY." 

WE  remained  a  day  in  bivouac  after  joining  the  Gibral 
tar  brigade  at  Rockville,  during  which  rations  of  fresh 
beef,  salt  pork,  and  "  hardtack"  (the  boys'  nickname  for 
hard  bread)  were  issued  to  the  army,  also  ammunition. 

The  method  of  issuing  rations  was  as  follows :  Colonels 
of  regiments  were  directed  to  send  in  requisitions  for  so 
many  days'  rations,  depending  on  the  movements  on  hand, 
of  hard  bread  and  pork,  and  usually  one  day's  rations  of 
fresh  beef.  At  brigade  head-quarters  these  requisitions 
were  consolidated,  making  the  brigade  requisition,  and 
forwarded  to  division  head-quarters.  Here  they  were 
again  consolidated  into  a  division  requisition,  and  so  on 
until  the  army  head-quarters  was  reached.  Then  the  corps 
commissary  received  in  bulk  enough  for  his  corps,  and 
distributed  it  to  the  divisions  in  bulk,  thence  to  brigades  in 
bulk,  thence  to  regiments,  and  finally  from  the  regiment  to 
the  companies,  and  to  the  men.  A  long  string  of  red  tape, 
surely ;  and  it  might  have  been  considerably  shortened  to 
the  advantage  of  all,  as  it  was  later  on. 

An  interesting  feature  of  the  issue  of  rations  was  the 
method  of  supplying  the  fresh  beef.  Live  cattle  were 
driven  to  the  army  and  issued  alive  to  the  several  corps, 

22 


Make-up  of  the  Fighting  Machine 

from  which  details  were  made  of  men  who  had  been  butch 
ers,  who  killed  and  dressed  the  beef.  The  animals  were 
driven  into  an  enclosure  and  expert  marksmen  shot  them 
down  as  wanted.  This  seemed  cruel  work,  but  it  was  well 
done ;  the  animal  being  hit  usually  at  the  base  of  its  horns, 
death  was  instantaneous.  This  fresh  meat,  which  we  got 
but  seldom  after  the  march  began,  was  cooked  and  eaten 
the  day  it  was  issued.  Enough  for  one  day  was  all  that 
was  issued  at  a  time,  and  this,  after  the  non-eatable  por 
tions  had  been  eliminated,  did  not  overburden  the  men. 

The  hard  bread  was  a  square  cracker  about  the  size  of 
an  ordinary  soda  cracker,  only  thicker,  and  very  hard  and 
dry.  It  was  supposed  to  be  of  the  same  quality  as  sea  bis 
cuit  or  pilot  bread,  but  I  never  saw  any  equal  to  that 
article.  The  salt  pork  was  usually  good  for  pork,  but 
it  was  a  great  trial  to  us  all  to  come  down  to  camp 
fare,  "  hardtack  and  pork."  Sometimes  the  "  hardtack" 
was  very  old  and  poor.  I  have  seen  many  a  one 
placed  in  the  palm  of  the  hand,  a  smart  blow,  a  puff  of 
breath,  and  mirabile!  a  handful  of  "squirmers" — the 
boys'  illustration  of  a  "  full  hand."  It  came  to  be  the  rule 
to  eat  in  daylight  for  protection  against  the  unknown 
quantity  in  the  hardtack.  If  we  had  to  eat  in  the  dark, 
after  a  prolonged  march,  our  protection  then  lay  in  break 
ing  our  cracker  into  a  cup  of  boiling  coffee,  stir  it  well  and 
then  flow  enough  of  the  coffee  over  to  carry  off  most  of 
the  strangers  and  take  the  balance  on  faith. 

On  the  march  each  man  carried  his  own  rations  in 
haversacks.  These  were  made  of  canvas  and  contained 
pockets  for  salt,  sugar  and  coffee,  besides  room  for  about 
two  days'  rations  of  hard  bread  and  pork.  Sometimes  five, 

23 


War  from  the  Inside 

six,  and  seven  days'  rations  were  issued,  then  the  balance 
had  to  be  stowed  away  in  knapsacks  and  pockets  of  the 
clothing.  When,  as  was  usual  in  the  latter  cases,  there 
was  also  issued  sixty  to  one  hundred  rounds  of  ammu 
nition,  the  man  became  a  veritable  pack-mule. 

For  the  first  month  many  of  our  men  went  hungry. 
Having  enormous  appetites  consequent  upon  this  new  and 
most  strenuous  mode  of  life,  they  would  eat  their  five  days' 
supply  in  two  or  three,  and  then  have  to  "  skirmish"  or  go 
hungry  until  the  next  supply  was  issued.  Most,  however, 
soon  learned  the  necessity  as  well  as  the  benefit  of  restrict 
ing  their  appetites  to  the  supply.  But  there  were  always 
some  improvident  ones,  who  never  had  a  supply  ahead,  but 
were  always  in  straights  for  grub.  They  were  ready  to 
black  boots,  clean  guns,  in  fact,  do  any  sort  of  menial  work 
for  their  comrades  for  a  snack  to  eat.  Their  improvidence 
made  them  the  drudges  of  the  company. 

Whatever  may  be  said  about  other  portions  of  the  rations, 
the  coffee  was  always  good.  I  never  saw  any  poor  coffee, 
and  it  was  a  blessing  it  was  so,  for  it  became  the  soldiers' 
solace  and  stay,  in  camp,  on  picket  and  on  the  march. 
Tired,  footsore,  and  dusty  from  the  march,  or  wet  and  cold 
on  picket,  or  homesick  and  shivering  in  camp,  there  were 
rest  and  comfort  and  new  life  in  a  cup  of  hot  coffee.  We 
could  not  always  have  it  on  picket  nor  on  the  march.  To 
make  a  cup  of  coffee  two  things  were  necessary  besides  the 
coffee,  namely,  water  and  fire,  both  frequently  very  diffi 
cult  to  obtain.  On  picket  water  was  generally  plentiful, 
but  in  the  immediate  presence  of  the  enemy,  fire  was  for 
bidden,  for  obvious  reasons.  On  the  march  both  were 
usually  scarce,  as  I  shall  show  later  on.  How  was  our 

24 


Make-up  of  the  Fighting  Machine 

coffee  made  ?  Each  man  was  provided  with  a  pint  tin  cup. 
As  much  coffee  as  could  comfortably  be  lifted  from  the 
haversack  by  the  thumb  and  two  fingers — depending  some 
what  on  the  supply — was  placed  in  the  cup,  which  was 
filled  about  three-fourths  full  of  water,  to  leave  room  for 
boiling.  It  was  then  placed  upon  some  live  coals  and 
brought  to  a  boil,  being  well  stirred  in  the  meantime  to  get 
the  strength  of  the  coffee.  A  little  cold  water  was  then 
added  to  settle  it.  Eggs,  gelatin,  or  other  notions  of  civil 
ization,  for  settling,  were  studiously  (?)  omitted.  Some 
times  sugar  was  added,  but  most  of  the  men,  especially  the 
old  vets,  took  it  straight.  It  was  astonishing  how  many  of 
the  "  wrinkles  of  grim  visaged  war"  were  temporarily 
smoothed  out  by  a  cup  of  coffee.  This  was  the  mainstay 
of  our  meals  on  the  march,  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  thin  slice 
of  raw  pork  between  two  hardtacks  frequently  constituting 
a  meal.  Extras  fell  in  the  way  once  in  a  while.  Chickens 
have  been  known  to  stray  into  camp,  the  result  of  a  night's 
foraging. 

Among  the  early  experiences  of  our  boys  was  an  inci 
dent  related  to  me  by  the  "  boy"  who  was  "  it."  He  said 
he  had  a  mighty  narrow  escape  last  night. 

I  asked,  "  How  was  that?" 

"  Out  hunting  for  chickens,  struck  a  farmhouse,  got  a 
nice  string,  and  was  sneaking  my  way  out.  Dark  as  tar. 
Ran  up  against  man,  who  grabbed  me  by  the  collar,  and 
demanded  '  what  are  you  doing  here  ?'  I  was  mum  as  an 
owl.  He  marched  me  out  where  there  was  a  flickering 
light,  and  sure  as  blazes  it  was  old  General  Kimball.  I 
didn't  know  that  house  was  brigade  head-quarters. 

"  '  What  regiment  do  you  belong  to  ?' 

25 


War  from  the  Inside 

" '  Dunno.' 

" '  You've  heard  about  the  orders  against  marauding, 
eh?' 

"  '  Dunno/ 
'  Hand  up  those  chickens,  you  rascal.' 

"  I  handed  them  out  from  behind  my  shaking  legs. 
'  How  many  have  you  got  ?' 

"  '  Dunno' — I  had  two  pair  of  nice  ones.  The  old  man 
took  out  his  knife  and  slowly  cut  out  one  pair,  looking 
savagely  at  me  all  the  time. 

"  *  There !  You  get  back  to  camp  as  quick  as  your  legs 
will  carry  you,  and  if  I  ever  get  my  hands  on  you  again 
you'll  remember  it.' '  He  said  he  thought  he'd  try  and 
forage  away  from  head-quarters  next  time.  General  Kim- 
ball  was  a  rigid  disciplinarian,  but  withal  a  very  kind- 
hearted  man.  He  no  doubt  paid  for  those  chickens  rather 
than  have  one  of  his  boys  suffer  for  his  foraging  escapade. 
Perhaps  I  ought  to  say  a  word  about  these  foraging  ex 
peditions  to  eke  out  the  boys'  larder.  These  men  were  not 
thieves  in  any  sense  and  very  few  attempted  this  dubious 
method,  but  the  temptation  was  almost  beyond  the  power 
of  resistance.  The  best  way  to  test  this  temptation  is  to 
diet  yourself  on  "  hardtack"  and  pork  for  just  about  one 
week.  Then  the  devil's  argument — always  present — was 
practically  true  there,  "  the  chickens  will  be  taken  (not 
stolen)  by  some  of  the  army,  and  you  might  as  well  have 
one  as  anybody." 

The  following  story  of  a  neighboring  regiment  will 
show  that  even  officers  high  in  rank  sometimes  found 
that  "  circumstances  alter  cases."  The  troops  were  near- 
ing  bivouac  at  the  close  of  the  day,  and,  as  usual,  the 

26 


Make-up  of  the  Fighting  Machine 

colonel  ordered  the  music  to  start  up  and  the  men  to 
fall  into  step  and  approach  camp  in  order  (the  march  is 
usually  in  route  step, — i.e.,  every  man  marches  and  carries 
his  gun  as  he  pleases).  The  fifes  and  the  snare-drums 
promptly  obeyed,  but  the  big  bass  drum  was  silent.  The 
men  fell  into  cadence  step  in  fine  shape,  including  the 
bass  drummer,  but  his  big  shell  gave  forth  no  sound. 
The  colonel  called  out,  "  What's  the  matter  with  the  bass 
drum?"  Still  no  response.  A  second  ejaculation  from 
head-quarters,  a  little  more  emphatic,  fared  no  better. 
Patience  now  exhausted,  the  colonel  yelled,  "  What  in 

h — 1's  the  matter,  I  say,  with "  when  a  sotto  voice 

reached  his  ear,  with  "  Colonel,  colonel,  he's  got  a  pair 
of  chickens  in  his  drum,  and  one  is  for  you."  "  Well, 
if  the  poor  fellow  is  sick,  let  him  fall  out." 

A  little  explanation  now  about  how  the  army  is  organ 
ized  will  probably  make  my  story  clearer.  That  an  army 
is  made  of  three  principal  arms,  viz.,  artillery,  cavalry,  and 
infantry,  is  familiar  to  all ;  that  the  cavalry  is  mounted  is 
also  well  known,  but  that  in  actual  fighting  they  were  often 
dismounted  and  fought  as  infantry  may  not  be  familiar  to 
all.  The  cavalry  and  infantry — or  foot  troops — are  or 
ganized  practically  alike,  viz.,  first  into  companies  of  101 
men  and  officers;  second,  into  regiments  of  ten  com 
panies,  or  less,  of  infantry  and  twelve  companies,  more 
or  less,  of  cavalry,  two  or  more  companies  of  cavalry 
constituting  a  "  squadron,"  and  a  like  number  of  com 
panies  of  infantry  a  "  battalion ;"  third,  into  brigades 
of  two  or  more — usually  four — regiments;  fourth,  di 
visions  of  two  or  more — usually  three — brigades;  fifth, 
army  corps,  any  number  of  divisions — usually  not  more 

27 


War  from  the  Inside 

than  three.  Logically,  the  rank  of  officers  commanding 
these  several  subdivisions  would  be  colonel,  commanding 
a  regiment;  brigadier-general,  his  rank  being  indicated 
by  one  star,  a  brigade;  a  major-general,  two  stars,  a  di 
vision;  a  lieutenant-general,  three  stars,  an  army  corps; 
and  the  whole  army  a  general,  his  rank  being  indicated  by 
four  stars.  This  was  carried  out  by  the  Confederates  in 
the  organization  of  their  armies.  But  not  so  with  ours. 
With  few  exceptions — ours  being  one — the  brigades  were 
commanded  by  the  senior  colonels,  and  towards  the  end  of 
the  war  this  was  sometimes  temporarily  true  of  divisions ; 
the  divisions  by  brigadiers,  whilst  we  had  no  higher  rank 
than  that  of  major-general  until  General  Grant  was  made, 
first,  lieutenant-general,  and  finally  general. 

The  artillery  was  organized  into  companies  commonly 
called  batteries.  There  were  two  branches,  heavy  and 
light  artillery.  The  former  were  organized  more  like  in 
fantry,  marched  on  foot  and  were  armed  with  muskets  in 
addition  to  the  heavy  guns  they  were  trained  to  use.  The 
latter  were  used  against  fortifications  and  were  rarely 
brought  into  field  work.  The  light  artillery  were  mounted 
either  on  the  horses  or  on  the  gun-carriages,  and,  though 
organized  into  a  separate  corps  under  the  direction  of  the 
chief  of  artillery,  were  usually  distributed  among  the  di 
visions,  one  or  two  batteries  accompanying  each  division. 

In  addition  to  these  chief  branches  of  the  service,  there 
was  the  signal  corps,  the  "  eyes"  of  the  army,  made  up 
mostly  of  young  lieutenants  and  non-commissioned  officers 
detailed  from  the  several  regiments.  There  were  two  such 
officers  from  Scranton,  namely,  Lieutenant  Fred.  J.  Ams- 
den,  One  Hundred  and  Thirty-sixth  Pennsylvania  Volun- 

28 


Make-up  of  the  Fighting  Machine 

teers,  and  Lieutenant  Frederick  Fuller,  Fifty-second 
Pennsylvania  Volunteers,  besides  a  number  of  enlisted 
men. 

Another  important  branch  of  the  service  was  the  tele 
graph  corps.  It  was  remarkable  the  celerity  with  which 
wires  would  be  run  along  the  ground  and  on  brush,  day 
by  day,  keeping  the  several  corps  constantly  in  touch  with 
the  commanding  general.  There  were  comparatively  few 
telegraph  operators  that  could  be  detailed,  and  many  had 
to  be  hired, — some  boys  who  were  too  young  to  enlist. 
Dr.  J.  Emmet  O'Brien,  of  this  city,  was  one  of  the  most 
efficient  of  the  latter  class. 

It  was  Dr.  O'Brien,  then  operating  below  Petersburg, 
who  caught  the  telegraphic  cipher  of  the  rebels  and  by 
tapping  their  wires  caught  many  messages  which  were  of 
material  assistance  to  General  Grant  in  the  closing  move 
ments  of  the  war.  It  was  he  also  who  in  like  manner 
caught  the  movements  of  Jeff  Davis  and  his  cabinet  in 
their  efforts  to  escape,  and  put  General  Wilson  on  his 
track,  resulting  in  his  final  capture.  Mr.  Richard  O'Brien, 
the  doctor's  older  brother,  for  many  years  superintendent 
of  the  Western  Union  Telegraph  lines  in  this  end  of  the 
State,  was  at  that  time  Government  Superintendent  of 
Telegraphs,  in  charge  of  all  its  telegraphic  operations  in 
Virginia  and  North  Carolina.  He  could  tell  many  a  hair- 
raising  experience.  He  related  to  me  the  following  inci 
dent,  which  occurred  during  Grant's  operations  around 
Petersburg,  to  illustrate  the  enterprise  of  the  enemy  in 
trying  to  get  our  telegrams,  and  the  necessity  of  sending 
all  messages  in  cipher.  They  never  succeeded  in  trans 
lating  the  Union  cipher.  But  one  day  an  operator  at 

29 


War  from  the  Inside 

Washington,  either  too  lazy  or  too  careless  to  put  his 
message  in  cipher,  telegraphed  to  the  chief  commissary  at 
a  place  below  City  Point  that  fifteen  hundred  head  of  beef 
cattle  would  be  landed  at  that  point  on  a  certain  day.  The 
message  was  caught  by  the  rebels.  The  beef  cattle  were 
landed  on  time,  but  in  the  meantime  Wade  Hampton  had 
swept  in  with  a  division  of  rebel  cavalry  and  was  waiting 
to  receive  the  cattle.  With  them  were  captured  a  hand 
some  lot  of  rations  and  a  number  of  prisoners,  including 
all  of  Mr.  O'Brien's  telegraph  operators  at  that  post.  Mr. 
O'Brien  said  he  cared  a  good  deal  more  about  the  loss  of 
his  operators  than  he  did  for  the  loss  of  the  cattle  and 
rations,  for  it  was  very  hard  to  get  competent  operators  at 
that  time.  There  was  at  least  one  vacancy  at  Washington 
following  this  incident. 

Still  another  arm  of  the  service  was  the  pontoniers, 
whose  duty  it  was  to  bridge  non-fordable  rivers.  They 
were  armed  and  drilled  as  infantry,  but  only  for  their  own 
protection.  Their  specialty  was  laying  and  removing  pon 
toon  bridges.  A  pontoon  train  consisted  of  forty  to  fifty 
wagons,  each  carrying  pontoon  boats,  with  plank  and 
stringers  for  flooring  and  oars  and  anchors  for  placing. 
In  laying  a  bridge  these  boats  were  anchored  side  by  side 
across  the  stream,  stringers  made  fast  across  them,  and 
plank  then  placed  on  the  stringers.  Every  piece  was 
securely  keyed  into  place  so  that  the  bridge  was  wide 
enough  and  strong  enough  for  a  battery  of  artillery  and  a 
column  of  infantry  to  go  over  at  the  same  time.  The 
rapidity  with  which  they  would  either  lay  or  take  up  a 
bridge  was  amazing.  If  undisturbed  they  would  bridge  a 
stream  two  hundred  yards  wide  in  thirty  minutes.  They 

30 


Make-up  of  the  Fighting  Machine 

bridged  the  Rappahannock  at  Fredericksburg  under  fire 
on  the  1 2th  of  December,  1863,  in  a  little  over  an  hour, 
losing  heavily  in  the  act. 

Having  now  given  some  account  of  the  organization  of 
this  great  human  fighting  machine,  it  will  be  proper  to 
show  how  it  was  handled.  For  this  purpose  there  were 
four  staff  departments,  namely,  the  adjutant-general's,  the 
quartermaster-general's,  the  commissary-general's,  and  the 
ordnance  departments.  The  first  named  was  the  mouth 
piece  of  the  army.  All  orders  were  issued  by  and  through 
that  officer.  It  was  the  book-keeper  of  the  army.  Each 
subdivision  of  the  army  had  its  adjutant-general  down  to 
the  office  of  adjutant  in  the  regiment,  who  was  charged 
with  issuing  all  orders,  and  with  attending  to  their  execu 
tion.  He  was  secretary,  so  to  speak,  of  the  commanding 
officer,  and  his  chief  executive  officer  as  well.  Extraor 
dinary  executive  talent  and  tireless  energy  were  required 
in  these  positions.  The  adjutant  must  be  able  at  all  times 
to  inform  his  chief  of  the  condition  of  every  detail  of  the 
command  whether  an  army  corps  or  regiment,  exactly  how 
many  men  were  fit  for  duty,  how  many  sick  or  disabled, 
and  just  where  they  all  are.  In  fact,  he  must  be  a  walking 
encyclopaedia  of  the  whole  command ;  added  to  this  he  was 
usually  chief  of  staff,  and  must  be  in  the  saddle  superin 
tending  every  movement  of  the  troops.  Always  first  on 
duty,  his  work  was  never  finished. 

Two  of  the  best  adjutants-general  the  world  has  pro 
duced  literally  wore  themselves  out  in  the  service — Seth 
Williams  and  John  B.  Rawlins.  The  first  named  was 
McClellan's  adjutant-general,  the  latter  was  Grant's.  Mc- 
Clellan  is  credited  with  having  organized  the  grand  old 

31 


War  from  the  Inside 

Army  of  the  Potomac,  the  main  fighting  force  by  which 
the  rebellion  was  finally  crushed.  This  was  doubtless  true, 
he  being  its  first  commanding  officer.  But  the  executive 
ability  by  which  that  magnificent  machine  was  perfected 
was  largely  the  work  of  Seth  Williams,  a  very  quiet, 
modest  man,  but  a  master  of  the  minutest  details  of  every 
department  and  an  indefatigable  worker.  It  was  said  his 
chief  could  wake  him  in  the  middle  of  the  night  and  get 
from  his  memory  a  correct  answer  as  to  the  number  of  men 
fit  for  duty  in  any  one  of  the  hundreds  of  regiments  in  the 
army,  and  just  where  it  was,  and  what  duty  it  was  doing. 
When  one  remembers  that  this  knowledge  was  acquired 
only  by  a  daily  perusal  of  the  consolidated  reports  of  the 
various  regiments,  brigades,  divisions,  and  corps  of  the 
army,  and  that  he  could  have  found  time  for  one  reading 
only,  it  will  be  seen  how  marvellous  his  memory  was. 

Rawlins  was  said  to  possess  much  the  same  quality.  It 
may  truthfully  be  said  that  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was 
organized  and  began  its  remarkable  career  in  the  life  blood 
of  Seth  Williams,  and  it  completed  its  work  in  a  blaze  of 
glory,  in  the  life  blood  of  John  B.  Rawlins.  Seth  Wil 
liams  died  in  the  service.  Rawlins  came  home  with  the 
victorious  army  only  to  die.  A  beautiful  bronze  equestrian 
statue  was  erected  at  Washington  under  the  influence  of 
his  beloved  chief,  Grant,  to  commemorate  the  services  of 
Rawlins.  So  far  as  I  know,  Seth  Williams  shares  the  fate 
of  most  of  his  humbler  comrades, — an  unmarked  grave. 

I  have  said  all  orders  were  sent  out  through  the  ad 
jutant-general's  office.  This,  of  course,  applies  to  all  regu 
lar  routine  work  only,  for  during  the  movements  of  troops 
on  campaigns  and  in  battle  orders  had  in  the  nature  of 

32 


Make-up  of  the  Fighting  Machine 

the  case  to  be  delivered  verbally.  For  this  purpose  each 
general  had  a  number  of  aides-de-camp.  In  sending  such 
orders,  the  utmost  courtesy  was  always  observed.  The 
formula  was  usually  thus,  "  General  Kimball  presents  his 
compliments  to  Colonel  Oakford  and  directs  that  he  move 
his  regiment  to  such  and  such  a  point."  To  which  Colonel 
Oakford  responds  returning  his  compliments  to  General 
Kimball  and  says  "  his  order  directing  so  and  so  has  been 
received  and  shall  be  immediately  obeyed." 

The  quartermaster's  department  was  charged  with  all 
matters  connected  with  transportation;  with  the  supply 
ing  of  clothing,  canvas,  and  equipage  of  all  sorts.  Both 
the  commissary  and  the  ordnance  departments  were  de 
pendent  upon  the  quartermaster  for  the  transportation  of 
their  respective  stores.  The  wagon  trains  required  by  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  for  all  this  service  were  prodigious. 
They  were  made  up  of  four  and  six  mule  teams  with  heavy 
"  prairie  schooners"  or  canvas-covered  wagons.  I  have 
seen  two  thousand  of  them  halted  for  the  night  in  a  single 
park,  and  such  trains  on  the  march  six  to  ten  miles  long 
were  not  unusual.  It  will  readily  be  seen  that  to  have 
them  within  easy  reach,  and  prevent  their  falling  into 
the  hands  of  an  alert  enemy,  was  a  tremendous  problem 
in  all  movements  of  the  army. 

The  army  mule  has  been  much  caricatured,  satirized, 
and  abused,  but  the  soldier  had  no  more  faithful  or  indis 
pensable  servant  than  this  same  patient,  plodding,  hard- 
pulling,  long-eared  fellow  of  the  roomy  voice  and  nimble 
heels.  The  "  boys"  told  a  story  which  may  illustrate  the 
mule's  education.  A  "  tenderfoot"  driver  had  gotten  his 
team  stalled  in  a  mud  hole,  and  by  no  amount  of  per- 
3  33 


War  from  the  Inside 

suasion  could  he  get  them  to  budge  an  inch.  Helpers  at 
the  wheels  and  new  hands  on  the  lines  were  all  to  no  pur 
pose.  A  typical  army  bummer  had  been  eying  the  scene 
with  contemptuous  silence.  Finally  he  cut  loose : 

"  Say !  You  'uns  dunno  the  mule  language.  Ye  dunno 
the  dilec.  Let  a  perfesser  in  there." 

He  was  promptly  given  the  job.  He  doffed  cap  and 
blouse,  marched  up  to  those  mules  as  if  he  weighed  a  ton 
and  commanded  the  army.  Clearing  away  the  crowd,  he 
seized  the  leader's  line,  and  distending  his  lungs,  he  shot 
out  in  a  voice  that  could  have  been  heard  a  mile  a  series  of 
whoops,  oaths,  adjectives,  and  billingsgate  that  would 
have  silenced  the  proverbial  London  fish  vender.  The 
mules  recognized  the  "  dilec"  at  once,  pricked  up  their 
ears  and  took  the  load  out  in  a  jiffy. 

:t  Ye  see,  gents,  them  ar  mules  is  used  to  workin'  with  a 
perfesser." 

The  commissary  department  supplied  the  rations,  and 
the  ordnance  department  the  arms  and  ammunition,  etc. 
Still  another  branch  of  the  service  was  the  provost-mar 
shal's  department.  This  was  the  police  force  of  the  army. 
It  had  the  care  and  custody  of  all  prisoners,  whether  those 
arrested  for  crime,  or  prisoners  of  war — those  captured 
from  the  enemy.  In  the  case  of  prisoners  sentenced  to 
death  by  court-martial,  the  provost  guard  were  their 
executioners. 


34 


CHAPTER    III 


ON    THE    MARCH 

WE  are  bound  northward  through  Maryland,  the  vets 
tell  us,  on  a  chase  after  the  rebs.  The  army  marches  in 
three  and  four  parallel  columns,  usually  each  corps  in  a 
column  by  itself,  and  distant  from  the  other  columns  equal 
to  about  its  length  in  line  of  battle,  say  a  half  to  three- 
fourths  of  a  mile.  Roads  were  utilized  as  far  as  prac 
ticable,  but  generally  were  left  to  the  artillery  and  the 
wagon  trains,  whilst  the  infantry  made  roads  for  them 
selves  directly  through  the  fields. 

The  whole  army  marches  surrounded  by  "  advance  and 
rear  guards,"  and  "  flankers/'  to  prevent  surprise.  Each 
column  is  headed  by  a  corps  of  pioneers  who,  in  addition 
to  their  arms,  are  provided  with  axes,  picks  and  shovels, 
with  the  latter  stone  walls  and  fences  are  levelled  suffi 
ciently  to  permit  the  troops  to  pass,  and  ditches  and  other 
obstructions  covered  and  removed.  It  is  interesting  to  see 
how  quickly  this  corps  will  dispose  of  an  ordinary  stone 
wall  or  rail  fence.  They  go  down  so  quickly  that  they 
hardly  seem  to  pause  in  their  march. 

We  learn  that  the  Johnnies  are  only  a  couple  of  days 
ahead  of  us.  That  they  marched  rapidly  and  were  on  their 
good  behavior,  all  maurading  being  forbidden,  and  they 
were  singing  a  new  song,  entitled  "  My  Maryland,"  thus 

35 


War  from  the  Inside 

trying  to  woo  this  loyal  border  State  over  to  the  Con 
federacy.  We  were  told  that  Lee  hung  two  soldiers  for 
stealing  chickens  and  fruit  just  before  they  entered  Fred 
erick  City. 

Much  could  be  written  about  the  discomforts  of  these 
marches,  the  chief  of  which  was  the  dust  more  than  the 
heat  and  the  fatigue.  No  rain  had  fallen  for  some  time, 
and  the  roads  and  the  fields  through  which  we  passed  were 
powdered  into  fine  dust,  which  arose  in  almost  suffocating 
clouds,  so  that  mouth,  lungs,  eyes,  and  ears  were  filled  with 
it.  Sometimes  it  became  so  dense  that  men  could  not  be 
seen  a  dozen  yards  away.  The  different  regiments  took 
turns  in  heading  the  columns.  There  was  comparative 
comfort  at  the  head,  but  there  were  so  many  regiments  that 
during  the  whole  campaign  our  regiment  enjoyed  this 
privilege  but  once. 

Another  feature  of  the  march  was  inability  to  satisfy 
thirst.  The  dust  and  heat  no  doubt  produced  an  abnormal 
thirst  which  water  did  not  seem  to  satisfy.  The  water  we 
could  get  was  always  warm,  and  generally  muddy  and 
filthy.  The  latter  was  caused  by  the  multitude  of  men 
using  the  little  streams,  springs,  or  wells.  Either  of  these, 
ordinarily  abundant  for  many  more  than  ever  used  them, 
were  hardly  a  cup  full  apiece  for  a  great  army.  Hence 
many  a  scrimmage  took  place  for  the  first  dash  at  a  cool 
well  or  spring.  On  our  second  or  third  day's  march,  such 
a  scrap  took  place  between  the  advanced  columns  for  a 
well,  and  in  the  melee  one  man  was  accidentally  pushed 
down  into  it,  head  first,  and  killed.  He  belonged  to  one  of 
the  Connecticut  regiments,  I  was  told.  We  passed  by  the 
well,  and  were  unable  to  get  water,  because  a  dead  soldier 

36 


On  the  March 

lay  at  the  bottom  of  it.  His  regiment  probably  got  his 
body  out,  but  we  had  to  march  on  without  stopping  to 
learn  whether  they  did  or  not.  The  problem  of  water  for 
our  army  we  found  to  be  a  troublesome  one.  Immediately 
we  halted,  much  of  our  rest  would  be  taken  up  in  efforts  to 
get  water.  We  lost  no  opportunity  to  fill  our  canteens. 
Arriving  in  bivouac  for  the  night,  the  first  thing  was  a 
detail  to  fill  canteens  and  camp  kettles  for  supper  coffee. 
We  always  bivouacked  near  a  stream,  if  possible.  But, 
then,  so  many  men  wanting  it  soon  roiled  it  for  miles,  so 
that  our  details  often  had  to  follow  the  stream  up  three 
and  four  miles  before  they  could  get  clean  water.  This 
may  seem  a  strong  statement,  but  if  one  will  stop  a 
moment  and  think  of  the  effect  upon  even  a  good-sized 
stream,  of  a  hundred  thousand  men,  besides  horses  and 
mules,  all  wanting  it  for  drinking,  cooking,  washing,  and 
bathing  (both  the  latter  as  peremptory  needs  as  the  for 
mer),  he  will  see  that  the  statement  is  no  exaggeration. 

An  interesting  feature  of  our  first  two  days'  march  was 
the  clearing  out  of  knapsacks  to  reduce  the  load.  Nat 
urally  each  man  was  loaded  with  extras  of  various  sorts, 
knicknacks  of  all  varieties,  but  mostly  supposed  necessaries 
of  camp  life,  put  in  by  loving  hands  at  home,  a  salve  for 
this,  a  medicine  for  that,  a  keepsake  from  one  and  another, 
some  the  dearest  of  earth's  treasures,  each  insignificant 
in  itself,  yet  all  taking  room  and  adding  weight  to  over 
burdened  shoulders.  At  the  midday  halt,  on  the  first  day 
knapsacks  being  off  for  rest,  they  came  open  and  the 
sorting  began.  It  was  sad,  yet  comical  withal,  to  notice  the 
things  that  went  out.  The  most  bulky  and  least  treasured 
went  first.  At  the  second  halting,  an  hour  later,  still  an- 

37 


War  from  the  Inside 

other  sorting  was  made.  The  sun  was  hot  and  the  knap 
sack  was  heavy.  After  the  second  day's  march,  those 
knapsacks  contained  little  but  what  the  soldier  was  com 
pelled  to  carry,  his  rations,  extra  ammunition,  and  clothing. 
Were  these  home  treasures  lost  ?  Oh,  no !  Not  one.  Our 
friends,  the  vets,  gathered  them  all  in  as  a  rich  harvest. 
They  had  been  there  themselves,  and  knowing  what  was 
coming,  were  on  hand  to  gather  the  plums  as  they  fell. 
The  only  difference  was,  that  another  mother's  or  sweet 
heart's  "  boy"  got  the  treasures. 

On  September  1 1  we  were  approaching  Frederick  City. 
Our  cavalry  had  a  skirmish  with  the  rebel  cavalry,  show 
ing  that  we  were  nearing  their  army.  And  right  here  I 
ought  to  say  that  what  an  individual  officer  or  soldier — 
unless  perhaps  a  general  officer — knows  of  events  trans 
piring  around  him  in  the  army  is  very  little.  Even  the 
movements  he  sees,  he  is  seldom  able  to  understand,  his 
vision  is  so  limited.  He  knows  what  his  own  regiment  and 
possibly  his  own  brigade  does,  but  seldom  more  than  that. 
He  is  as  often  the  victim  of  false  rumor  as  to  movements 
of  other  portions  of  the  army,  as  those  who  are  outside 
of  it.  On  this  date  we  encamped  near  Clarksville.  It  was 
rumored  that  the  rebels  were  in  force  at  Frederick  City. 
How  far  away  that  is  we  do  not  know.  The  only  certainty 
about  army  life  and  army  movements  to  the  soldier  is  a 
constant  condition  of  uncertainty.  Uncertainty  as  to 
where  or  when  he  will  eat,  sleep,  or  fight,  where  or  when 
the  end  will  come.  One  would  almost  doubt  the  certainty 
of  his  own  existence,  except  for  the  hard  knocks  which 
make  this  impossible. 

The  celebrated  Irish  brigade,  commanded  by  Brigadier- 

38 


On  the  March 

General  Thomas  Francis  Meagher,  was  in  Richardson's 
division.  They  were  a  "  free  and  easy"  going  crowd. 
General  Richardson  impressed  me  as  a  man  of  great  deter 
mination  and  courage.  He  was  a  large,  heavy  man, 
dressed  roughly  and  spoke  and  acted  very  brusquely. 
French  (who  commanded  our  division)  was  also  thick-set, 
probably  upwards  of  sixty  years  old,  quite  gray  and  with  a 
very  red  face.  He  had  an  affection  of  the  eyes  which  kept 
him  winking  or  blinking  constantly,  from  which  he  earned 
the  sobriquet,  "  Old  Blink  Eye."  I  saw  General  Burnside 
about  this  time.  He  was  dressed  so  as  to  be  almost  un 
recognizable  as  a  general  officer ;  wore  a  rough  blouse,  on 
the  collar  of  which  a  close  look  revealed  two  much-bat 
tered  and  faded  stars,  indicating  his  rank  of  major- 
general.  He  wore  a  black  "  slouch"  hat,  the  brim  well 
down  over  his  face,  and  rode  along  with  a  single  orderly, 
without  the  least  ostentation.  The  men  of  the  other  regi 
ments  knew  him  and  broke  out  into  a  cheer,  at  which  he 
promptly  doffed  his  hat  and  swung  it  at  the  boys.  His 
hat  off,  we  recognized  the  handsome  author  of  the  "  Burn- 
side"  whiskers.  He  was  not  only  very  popular  with  his 
own  corps — the  Ninth — but  with  the  whole  army,  and 
chiefly,  I  think,  because  of  his  modest,  quiet  way  of  going 
about.  This  was  so  different  from  General  McClellan. 

On  our  third  day's  march  we  were  halted  for  rest,  when 
an  orderly  rode  through  the  lines  saying  to  the  different 
colonels,  "  General  McClellan  will  pass  this  way  in  ten 
minutes."  This  meant  that  we  were  to  be  ready  to  cheer 
"  Little  Mac"  when  he  came  along,  which,  of  course,  we 
all  did.  He  came,  preceded  by  a  squadron  of  cavalry  and 
accompanied  by  a  very  large  and  brilliantly  caparisoned 

39 


War  from  the  Inside 

staff,  followed  by  more  cavalry.  He  was  dressed  in  the 
full  uniform  of  a  major-general  and  rode  a  superb  horse, 
upon  which  he  sat  faultlessly.  He  was  certainly  a  fine- 
looking  officer  and  a  very  striking  figure.  But  whether  all 
this  "  fuss  and  feathers"  was  designed  to  impress  the  men, 
or  was  a  freak  of  personal  vanity,  it  did  not  favorably  im 
press  our  men.  Many  of  the  old  vets,  who  had  been  with 
him  on  the  Peninsula,  and  now  greeted  him  again  after  his 
reinstatement,  were  very  enthusiastic.  But  notwithstand 
ing  their  demonstrations,  they  rather  negatived  their 
praises  by  the  remark,  "  No  fight  to-day;  Little  Mac  has 
gone  to  the  front."  "  Look  out  for  a  fight  when  he  goes 
to  the  rear."  On  the  other  hand,  they  said  when  "  Old 
Man  Sumner" — our  corps  commander — "  goes  to  the 
front,  look  out  for  a  fight." 

General  Sumner  was  an  old  man — must  have  been 
nearly  seventy — gray,  and  his  color  indicated  advanced 
age,  though  he  seemed  quite  vigorous.  He  went  about 
very  quietly  and  without  display.  He  had  a  singular 
habit  of  dropping  his  under  jaw,  so  that  his  mouth  was 
partially  open  much  of  the  time. 

We  bivouacked  on  the  I2th  of  September  in  front  of 
Frederick  City,  Md.,  in  a  field  occupied  the  night  before 
by  the  rebels,  so  the  people  told  us,  and  there  was  abundant 
evidence  of  their  presence  in  the  filth  they  left  uncovered, 
for  they  had  slaughtered  beef  for  their  troops  and  the 
putrid  offal  therefrom  was  polluting  the  air.  Still  there 
we  had  to  sleep.  We  marched  the  latter  part  of  the  day  in 
the  rain,  and  were  soon  well  covered  with  mud.  We  man 
aged  to  keep  some  of  the  water  out  with  our  gum  blankets, 
and  when  we  came  to  fix  for  the  night,  the  men  going  in 

40 


On  the  March 

pairs  made  themselves  fairly  comfortable  under  their 
shelter  tents.  I  should  have  explained  that  the  only  "  can 
vas"  supplied  to  the  men  on  the  march  was  shelter  tents, 
which  consisted  of  a  square  of  stout  muslin  with  button 
holes  on  one  side  and  buttons  on  the  other.  Two  of  these 
buttoned  together  and  stretched  taut  over  a  ridge-pole  and 
made  fast  on  the  ground,  would  keep  out  the  heaviest 
shower,  provided  the  occupants  were  careful  not  to  touch 
the  muslin.  A  hand  or  elbow  accidentally  thrust  against 
the  tent  brought  the  water  through  in  streams.  There  is  a 
knack  in  doing  this,  which  the  experience  of  the  vets  with 
whom  we  were  brigaded  soon  taught  us.  Choosing 
ground  a  little  slanting,  so  the  water  would  run  away  from 
them,  they  would  sleep  fairly  dry  and  comfortable,  even  in 
a  hard  storm.  As  for  us  officers  who  were  without  shelter 
tents,  we  had  to  shift  for  ourselves  as  best  we  might.  A 
favorite  plan,  when  fences  were  available,  was  to  place 
three  or  four  rails  endwise  against  the  fence  and  make 
a  shelter  by  fastening  a  gum  blanket  on  top. 

This  worked  fairly  well  against  a  stone  wall  for  a  back 
ing,  but  against  an  ordinary  fence  one  side  was  unpro 
tected,  yet  with  another  gum  blanket,  two  of  us  could  so 
roll  ourselves  up  as  to  be  comparatively  water-proof.  My 
diary  states  that  in  a  driving  rainstorm  here  I  never  slept 
better  in  my  life.  I  remember  awakening  with  my  head 
thoroughly  drenched,  but  otherwise  comparatively  dry. 

This  night  I  succeeded  in  getting  a  "  bang  up"  supper — 
a  cooked  meal — at  a  reb  farm-house.  It  consisted  of  pork- 
steak,  potatoes,  and  hot  coffee  with  bread  and  butter.  It 
was  a  great  treat.  I  had  now  been  without  a  square  meal 
for  nearly  ten  days.  The  old  gentleman,  a  small  farmer, 

41 


War  from  the  Inside 

talked  freely  about  the  war,  not  concealing  his  rebel  sym 
pathies.  He  extolled  Stonewall  Jackson  and  his  men, 
who,  he  said,  had  passed  through  there  only  a  day  ahead  of 
us.  He  firmly  believed  we  would  be  whipped.  He  evi 
dently  had  an  eye  for  the  "  main  chance,"  for  he  was  quite 
willing  to  cook  for  us  at  twenty-five  cents  a  meal,  as  long 
as  he  had  stuff  to  cook  and  his  good  wife  had  strength 
to  do  the  work.  She  seemed  to  be  a  nice  old  lady,  and, 
hungry  as  I  was,  I  felt  almost  unwilling  to  eat  her  supper, 
she  looked  so  tired.  I  told  her  it  was  too  bad.  She  smiled 
and  said  she  was  tired,  but  she  couldn't  bear  to  turn  away 
these  hungry  boys.  She  said  she  had  a  son  in  the  rebel 
army,  and  she  knew  we  must  be  hungry  and  wet,  for  it 
was  still  raining  hard. 

The  officers  at  this  time  experienced  difficulty  in  getting 
food  to  eat.  The  men  were  supplied  with  rations  and 
forced  to  carry  them,  but  rations  were  not  issued  to  officers 
— though  they  might  purchase  of  the  commissary  such  as 
the  men  had,  when  there  was  a  supply.  The  latter  were 
supposed  to  provide  their  own  mess,  for  which  purpose 
their  mess-kits  were  transported  in  a  wagon  supplied  to 
each  regiment.  The  field  and  staff  usually  made  one  mess, 
and  the  line  or  company  officers  another.  Sometimes  the 
latter  messed  with  their  own  men,  carrying  their  rations 
along  on  the  march  the  same  as  the  men.  This  was  dis 
couraged  by  the  government,  but  it  proved  the  only  way 
to  be  sure  of  food  when  needed,  and  was  later  on  generally 
adopted.  We  had  plenty  of  food  with  our  mess-kit  and 
cook,  but  on  the  march,  and  especially  in  the  presence  of 
the  enemy,  our  wagons  could  never  get  within  reach  of 
us.  Indeed,  when  we  bivouacked,  they  were  generally 

42 


On  the  March 

from  eight  to  ten  miles  away.  The  result  was  we  often 
went  hungry,  unless  we  were  able  to  pick  up  a  meal  at  a 
farm-house — which  seldom  occurred,  for  the  reason  that 
most  of  these  farmers  were  rebel  sympathizers  and  would 
not  feed  us  "  Yanks/'  or  they  would  be  either  sold  out,  or 
stolen  out,  of  food.  The  tale  generally  told  was,  "  You 
'uns  has  stolen  all  we  'uns  had."  This  accounts  for  the 
entry  in  my  diary  that  the  next  morning  I  marched  with 
out  breakfast,  but  got  a  good  bath  in  the  Monocacy — near 
which  we  encamped — in  place  of  it.  I  got  a  "  hardtack" 
and  bit  of  raw  pork  about  10  A.M. 

On  the  1 3th  of  September,  we  passed  through  the  city  of 
Frederick,  Md.  It  is  a  quaint  old  town,  having  then  prob 
ably  three  thousand  or  more  inhabitants  and  a  decided 
business  air.  The  rebels,  they  claimed,  had  cleaned  them 
out  of  eatables  and  clothing,  paying  for  them  in  Con 
federate  scrip,  and  one  man  told  me  they  would  not 
take  the  same  scrip  in  change,  but  required  Union  money ; 
that  this  was  demanded  everywhere.  General  McClellan 
passed  through  the  streets  while  we  were  halted,  as  did 
General  Burnside  shortly  after.  A  funny  incident  oc 
curred  with  the  latter.  General  Burnside,  as  usual,  was 
accompanied  by  a  single  orderly,  and  had  stopped  a  mo 
ment  to  speak  to  some  officers,  when  a  handsome,  middle- 
aged  lady  stepped  out  of  her  house  and  approached.  She 
put  out  her  hand  and,  as  the  general  clasped  it,  she  raised 
herself  up  on  her  toes  in  an  unmistakable  motion  to 
greet  him  with  a  kiss. 

The  general  so  understood  her,  and,  doffing  his  hat,  bent 
down  to  meet  her  pouting  lips,  but,  alas,  he  was  too  high 
up ;  bend  as  low  as  he  might  and  stretch  up  as  high  as  she 

43 


War  from  the  Inside 

could,  their  lips  did  not  meet,  and  the  kiss  hung  in  mid-air. 
The  boys  caught  the  situation  in  a  moment,  and  began  to 
laugh  and  clap  their  hands,  but  the  general  solved  the 
problem  by  dismounting  and  taking  his  kiss  in  the  most 
gallant  fashion,  on  which  he  was  roundly  cheered  by  the 
men.  The  lady  was  evidently  of  one  of  the  best  families. 
She  said  she  was  a  stanch  Union  woman,  and  was  so  glad 
to  see  our  troops  that  she  felt  she  must  greet  our  general. 
There  was  "  method  in  her  madness,"  however,  for  she 
confined  her  favors  to  a  general,  and  picked  out  the  hand 
somest  one  of  the  lot.  It  is  worthy  of  note,  that  during 
this  incident,  which  excited  uproarious  laughter,  not  a  dis 
respectful  remark  was  made  by  any  of  the  hundreds  of  our 
"  boys"  who  witnessed  it.  General  Burnside  chatted  with 
her  for  a  few  moments,  then  remounted  and  rode  away. 

Approaching  Frederick  City,  the  country  is  exception 
ally  beautiful  and  the  land  seemed  to  be  under  a  good  state 
of  cultivation.  In  front  of  us  loomed  up  almost  against 
the  sky  the  long  ridge  called  the  South  Mountain.  It  was 
evidently  a  spur  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  Another  incident  oc 
curred  soon  after  reaching  bivouack,  just  beyond  the  city. 
We  had  arranged  for  our  night's  "lodging"  and  were  pre 
paring  supper,  when  one  of  the  native  farmers  came  into 
camp  and  asked  to  see  the  colonel.  Colonel  Oakford  and 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Wilcox  were  temporarily  absent,  and 
he  was  turned  over  to  Major  Albright,  to  whom  he  com 
plained  that  "  you  'uns"  had  stolen  his  last  pig  and  he 
wanted  pay  for  it.  The  major,  who  was  a  lawyer,  began 
to  cross-question  him  as  to  how  he  knew  it  was  our  men 
who  had  stolen  it ;  there  were  at  least  fifty  other  regiments 
besides  ours  on  the  ground.  But  he  would  not  be  denied. 

44 


COLONEL    CHARLES    ALBRIGHT 


On  the  March 

He  said  they  told  him  they  was  "  a  hundred  and  thirty-two 
uns,"  and  he  also  saw  those  figures  on  their  caps.  The 
major  asked  how  long  ago  they  took  it.  He  replied  that 
they  got  it  only  a  little  while  ago,  and  offered  to  go  and 
find  it  if  the  major  would  allow  him.  But  the  latter  was 
confident  he  was  mistaken  in  his  men — that  some  of  the 
old  "  vets"  had  got  his  pig.  His  chief  argument  was  that 
our  men  were  greenhorns  and  knew  nothing  about  ma 
rauding;  that  some  of  the  "  vets"  had  doubtless  made 
away  with  his  pig  and  had  laid  it  on  our  men.  So  per 
suasive  was  the  major  that  the  man  finally  went  off  satis 
fied  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  in  his  men.  The  man  was 
only  well  out  of  camp  when  one  of  our  men  appeared  at 
the  major's  quarters  with  a  piece  of  fresh  pork  for  his 

supper,  with  the  compliments  of  Company .     Now, 

the  orders  against  marauding  were  very  severe,  and  to 
have  been  caught  would  have  involved  heavy  punishment. 
But  the  chief  point  of  the  incident,  and  which  made  it  a 
huge  joke  on  the  major,  lay  in  the  fact  that  the  latter  who 
was  a  thoroughly  conscientious  man,  had  successfully 
fought  off  a  charge  against  his  men,  whom  he  really  be 
lieved  to  be  innocent,  only  to  find  that  during  the  very 
time  he  was  persuading  his  man  of  their  innocence,  the 
scamps  were  almost  within  sound  of  his  voice,  actually 
butchering  and  dressing  the  pig.  How  they  managed  to 
capture  and  kill  that  pig,  without  a  single  squeal  escaping, 
is  one  of  the  marvels  of  the  service.  Certainly  vets  could 
have  done  no  better.  The  man  was  gone,  the  mischief  was 
done,  the  meat  was  spoiling,  and  we  were  very  hungry. 
With  rather  cheerful  sadness,  it  must  be  confessed,  we  be 
came  particeps  criminis,  and  made  a  supper  on  the  pork. 

45 


CHAPTER   IV 


DRAWING  NEAR  THE  ENEMY — BATTLE  OF  SOUTH    MOUN 
TAIN PRELIMINARY     SKIRMISHES 

SUNDAY,  September  15,  we  broke  camp  at  daylight  and 
marched  out  on  the  Hagerstown  "  pike."  Our  division  had 
the  field  this  day.  We  crossed  the  ridge  in  rear  of  Fred 
erick  City  and  thence  down  into  and  up  a  most  beautiful 
valley.  We  made  only  about  seven  miles,  though  we 
actually  marched  over  twelve.  We  were  in  the  presence 
of  the  enemy  and  were  manoeuvred  so  as  to  keep  con 
cealed.  We  heard  heavy  cannonading  all  day,  and  part 
of  the  time  could  see  our  batteries,  towards  which  we 
were  marching. 

Towards  night  we  heard  the  first  musketry  firing.  It 
proved  to  be  the  closing  of  the  short  but  sanguinary  bat 
tle  of  South  Mountain.  General  Reno,  commanding  the 
Ninth  Corps,  whose  glistening  bayonets  we  had  seen 
across  the  valley  ahead  of  us,  had  overtaken  the  rebel 
rear  guard  in  South  Mountain  pass  and  a  severe  action 
had  ensued.  General  Reno  himself  was  killed.  His  body 
was  brought  back  next  morning  in  an  ambulance  on  its 
way  to  Washington.  We  reached  the  battle-ground  about 
midnight,  whither  we  had  been  hurried  as  supports.  The 
batteries  on  both  sides  were  still  at  work,  but  musketry 
firing  had  ceased.  It  had  been  a  beautiful  though  very 

46 


Battle  of  South  Mountain 

warm  day,  and  the  night  was  brilliantly  moonlight,  one 
of  those  exceptionally  bright  nights  which  almost  equalled 
daylight.  And  this  had  been  Sunday — the  Lord's  day! 
How  dreadful  the  work  for  the  Lord's  day ! 

Here  I  saw  the  first  dead  soldier.  Two  of  our  artillery 
men  had  been  killed  while  serving  their  gun.  Both  were 
terribly  mangled.  They  had  been  laid  aside,  while  others 
stepped  into  their  places.  There  they  still  lay,  horrible 
evidence  of  the  "  hell  of  war."  Subsequently  I  saw  thou 
sands  of  the  killed  on  both  sides,  which  made  scarcely 
more  impression  on  me  than  so  many  logs,  but  this  first 
vision  of  the  awful  work  of  war  still  remains.  Even  at 
this  writing,  forty  years  later,  memory  reproduces  that 
horrible  scene  as  clearly  as  on  that  beautiful  Sabbath 
evening. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  we  bivouacked  for  the  little 
rest  we  were  to  have  before  resuming  the  "  chase."  Be 
ing  now  in  the  immediate  "  presence  of  the  enemy,"  we 
rested  on  "  our  arms,"  that  is,  every  soldier  lay  down 
with  his  gun  at  his  side,  and  knapsack  and  accoutrements 
ready  to  be  "  slung"  immediately  on  the  sounding  of  the 
"  call."  We  officers  did  not  unsaddle  our  horses,  but  dis 
mounted  and  snatched  an  hour's  sleep  just  as  we  were. 
Bright  and  early  next  morning  we  were  on  our  way  again. 
It  was  a  most  beautiful  morning. 

We  soon  passed  the  field  where  the  musketry  did  its 
work  the  night  before,  and  there  were  more  than  a  hun 
dred  dead  rebels  scattered  over  the  field,  as  the  result  of 
it.  Two  or  three  were  sitting  upright,  or  nearly  so, 
against  stumps.  They  had  evidently  been  mortally 
wounded,  and  died  while  waiting  for  help.  All  were 

47 


War  from  the  Inside 

dressed  in  coarse  butternut-colored  stuffs,  very  ugly  in 
appearance,  but  admirably  well  calculated  to  conceal  them 
from  our  troops. 

We  rapidly  passed  over  the  mountain  (South  Moun 
tain)  and  down  into  the  village  of  Boonsborough.  There 
was  abundant  evidence  of  the  rebel  skedaddle  down  the 
mountain  ahead  of  our  troops  in  the  way  of  blankets, 
knapsacks,  and  other  impedimenta,  evidently  dropped  or 
thrown  away  in  the  flight.  We  passed  several  squads 
of  rebel  prisoners  who  had  been  captured  by  our  cavalry 
and  were  being  marched  to  the  rear  under  guard.  They 
were  good-looking  boys,  apparently  scarcely  more  than 
boys,  and  were  poorly  dressed  and  poorly  supplied. 

Some  freely  expressed  themselves  as  glad  they  had  been 
captured,  as  they  were  sick  of  the  fighting. 

My  own  experiences  this  day  were  a  taste  of  "  the 
front,"  that  is,  the  excitement  attending  a  momentarily 
expected  "  brush"  with  the  enemy.  Part  of  the  time  my 
heart  was  in  my  mouth,  and  my  hair  seemed  to  stand 
straight  up.  One  can  have  little  idea  of  this  feeling  until 
it  has  been  experienced.  Any  effort  to  describe  it  will 
be  inadequate.  Personal  fear?  Yes,  that  unquestionably 
is  at  the  bottom  of  it,  and  I  take  no  stock  in  the  man  who 
says  he  has  no  fear.  We  had  been  without  food  until 
late  in  the  afternoon  for  reasons  heretofore  explained. 
Towards  night  one  of  my  friends  in  Company  K  gave  me 
a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  "  hardtack." 

Just  before  reaching  Boonsborough,  a  pretty  village 
nestling  at  the  foot  of  the  South  Mountain,  our  cavalry 
had  a  sharp  skirmish  with  the  rebel  rear-guard,  in  which 
Captain  Kelley,  of  the  Illinois  cavalry,  was  killed,  I  was 

48 


Battle  of  South  Mountain 

told.  At  Boonsborough  we  found  the  field  hospitals  with 
the  rebel  wounded  from  the  fight  of  the  day  previous. 
Their  wounded  men  said  their  loss  was  over  four  hundred 
killed,  among  them  two  brigadiers-general,  one  colonel, 
and  several  officers  of  lesser  rank.  A  rebel  flag  of  truce 
came  into  our  lines  here  to  get  the  bodies  of  these  dead 
officers  and  to  arrange  for  burying  their  dead  and  caring 
for  their  wounded.  The  houses  of  Boonsborough  had 
been  mostly  vacated  by  the  people  on  the  approach  of  the 
rebel  army  and  the  fighting,  and  the  latter  had  promptly 
occupied  as  many  of  them  as  they  needed  for  their 
wounded.  Imagine  these  poor  villagers  returning  from 
their  flight  to  find  their  homes  literally  packed  with 
wounded  rebel  soldiers  and  their  attendants.  Whatever 
humble  food  supplies  they  may  have  had,  all  had  been 
appropriated,  for  war  spares  nothing.  Some  of  the 
frightened  people  of  the  village  were  returning  as  we 
passed  through,  and  were  sadly  lamenting  the  destruc 
tion  of  almost  everything  that  could  be  destroyed  on  and 
about  their  homes  by  this  besom  of  destruction, — war. 
Food,  stock,  fences,  bed  and  bedding,  etc.,  all  gone  or 
destroyed.  Some  of  the  houses  had  been  perforated  by 
the  shells, — probably  our  own  shells,  aimed  at  the  enemy. 
One  man  told  me  a  shell  had  entered  his  house  and  landed 
on  the  bed  in  the  front  room,  but  had  not  exploded.  Had 
it  exploded,  he  would  have  had  a  bigger  story  to  tell. 

The  rebels,  we  learned,  had  been  gone  but  a  few  hours, 
and  we  were  kept  in  pursuit.  We  marched  out  the  Shep- 
herdstown  road  a  few  miles,  reaching  and  passing  through 
another  village — Keedysville.  We  were  continuously 
approaching  heavy  cannonading.  Indeed,  we  had  been 
4  49 


War  from  the  Inside 

marching  for  the  past  three  days  within  hearing  of,  and 
drawing  closer  to,  the  artillery  barking  of  the  two  armies. 
Old  vets  said  this  meant  a  big  fight  within  the  next  few 
hours.  If  so,  I  thought  I  shall  better  know  how  to  diag 
nose  similar  symptoms  in  the  future. 

A  mile  beyond  Keedysville  we  bivouacked  for  the 
night,  after  a  hard,  hot,  and  exciting  day's  chase.  Lieu 
tenant-Colonel  Wilcox  came  into  camp  with  a  great 
trophy,  nothing  less  than  a  good  old-fashioned  fat  loaf 
of  home-made  bread.  He  was  immediately  voted  a  niche 
in  the  future  hall  of  fame,  for  two  acts  of  extraordinary 
merit,  namely,  first,  finding  and  capturing  the  bread,  and, 
second,  bringing  it  into  camp  intact,  the  latter  act  being 
considered  supremely  self-sacrificing.  It  was  magnani 
mously  divided  by  him,  and  made  a  supper  for  three  of 
us.  Our  mid-day  meal  had  been  made  up  of  dust  and 
excitement. 

All  sorts  of  rumors  were  afloat  as  to  the  movements 
of  the  enemy,  as  well  as  of  our  own  army.  It  was  said 
Jackson  was  across  the  Potomac  with  a  large  force ;  that 
Hooker  was  engaging  him,  and  that  we  were  likely  to 
bag  the  balance  of  Lee's  army  soon.  One  thing  I  learned, 
namely,  that  I  could  be  sure  only  of  what  I  saw,  and  that 
was  very  little,  indeed,  of  the  doings  of  either  army.  The 
soldier  who  professes  to  know  all  about  army  movements 
because  he  "  was  there/'  may  be  set  down  either  as  a 
bummer,  who  spent  most  of  his  time  up  trees,  safely  en 
sconced  where  he  could  see,  or  as  a  fake. 

My  diary  records  a  night  of  good  rest  September  16, 
1862,  in  this  camp  on  the  Shepherdstown  road.  The  morn 
ing  was  clear,  beautiful,  and  cheery.  This  entry  will  look 

50 


COLONEL    VINCENT     M.    WILCOX 


.»^ 


or 


'UNIVERSITY 


Battle  of  South  Mountain 

somewhat  remarkable  in  view  of  that  which  follows, 
namely,  "  No  breakfast  in  sight  or  in  prospect/'  Later 
one  of  our  men  gave  me  half  his  cup  of  coffee  and  a 
couple  of  small  sweet  potatoes,  which  I  roasted  and  ate 
without  seasoning, 

The  "  ball"  opened  soon  after  daylight  by  a  rebel  bat 
tery,  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  away,  attempting  to 
shell  our  lines.  Our  division  was  massed  under  the  shel 
ter  of  a  hill.  One  of  our  batteries  of  12-pounder  brass 
guns  promptly  replied,  and  a  beautiful  artillery  duel 
ensued,  the  first  I  had  ever  witnessed  at  close  quarters. 
Many  of  us  crept  up  to  the  brow  of  the  hill  to  see  the 
"  fun,"  though  we  were  warned  that  we  were  courting 
trouble  in  so  doing.  We  could  see  columns  of  rebel  in 
fantry  marching  in  ranks  of  four,  just  as  we  marched, 
en  route,  and  as  shell  after  shell  from  our  guns  would 
explode  among  them  and  scatter  and  kill  we  would  cheer. 
We  were  enjoying  ourselves  hugely  until  presently  some 
additional  puffs  of  smoke  appeared  from  their  side,  fol 
lowed  immediately  by  a  series  of  very  ugly  hissing,  whiz 
zing  sounds,  and  the  dropping  of  shells  amongst  our 
troops  which  changed  the  whole  aspect  of  things.  Our 
merriment  and  cheering  were  replaced  by  a  scurrying  to 
cover,  with  blanched  faces  on  some  and  an  ominous, 
thoughtful  quiet  over  all. 

This  was  really  our  first  baptism  of  fire,  for  though  at 
South  Mountain  we  had  been  in  range  and  were  credited 
with  being  in  the  fight  as  supports,  none  of  the  shells  had 
actually  visited  us.  Several  of  these  came  altogether  too 
close  for  comfort.  Colonel  Oakford,  Lieu  tenant- Colonel 
Wilcox,  and  I  were  sitting  on  our  horses  as  close  together 

Si 


War  from  the  Inside 

as  horses  ordinarily  stand,  when  one  of  these  ugly  mis 
siles  dropped  down  between  us.  It  came  with  a  shrieking, 
screeching  sound,  like  the  pitch  of  an  electric  car  with 
the  added  noise  of  a  dozen  sky-rockets.  It  did  not  ex 
plode.  It  created  considerable  consternation  and  no  little 
stir  with  horses  and  men,  but  did  no  damage  further  than 
the  scare  and  a  good  showering  of  gravel  and  dust.  An 
other  struck  between  the  ranks  of  our  brigade  as  they  were 
resting  under  the  hill  with  guns  stacked, — only  a  few  feet 
away  from  us.  It  also,  happily,  failed  to  explode,  but 
we  were  sure  some  one  must  have  been  killed  by  it.  Jt 
did  not  seem  possible  that  such  a  missile  could  drop  down 
upon  a  division  of  troops  in  mass  without  hitting  some 
body;  but,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  it  did  no  damage 
beyond  knocking  down  a  row  of  gun-stacks  and  tumbling 
topsy-turvy  several  men,  who  were  badly  bruised,  but 
otherwise  uninjured.  The  way  the  concussion  tossed  the 
men  about  was  terrific.  Had  these  shells  exploded,  some 
other  body  would  probably  have  had  to  write  up  this  nar 
rative. 

Another  shell  incident  occurred  during  this  artillery 
duel  that  looked  very  funny,  though  it  was  anything  but 
funny  to  the  poor  fellow  who  suffered.  He,  with  others, 
had  been  up  near  our  battery,  on  the  knoll  just  above  us, 
witnessing  the  firing,  when  one  of  these  rebel  shells  came 
ricochetting  along  the  ground  towards  him  as  he  evidently 
thought,  for  he  started  to  run  down  the  hill  thinking  to 
get  away  from  it,  but  in  fact  running  exactly  in  front  of 
the  shell,  which  carried  away  one  heel.  He  continued 
down  the  hill  at  greatly  accelerated  speed,  but  now  hop 
ping  on  one  foot.  Had  he  remained  where  he  was  the  mis- 

52 


Battle  of  South  Mountain 

sile  would  have  passed  him  harmlessly.  Except  when 
nearly  spent,  shells  are  not  seen  until  they  have  passed, 
but  the  screeching,  whizzing,  hissing  noise  is  sufficient  to 
make  one  believe  they  are  hunting  him  personally.  Vet 
eran  troops  get  to  discount  the  terrors  of  these  noises  in  a 
measure,  and  pay  little  attention  to  them,  on  the  theory 
that  if  one  is  going  to  be  hit  by  them  he  will  be  anyway, 
and  no  amount  of  dodging  will  save  him,  so  they  go  right 
on  and  "  take  their  chances."  But  with  new  troops  the 
effect  of  a  shell  shrieking  over  or  past  them  is  often  very 
ludicrous.  An  involuntary  salaam  follows  the  first  sound, 
with  a  wild  craning  of  the  necks  to  see  where  it  went. 
Upon  marching  troops,  the  effect  is  like  that  of  a  puff  of 
wind  chasing  a  wave  across  a  field  of  grain. 

Returning  to  our  artillery  duel,  so  far  as  we  could 
judge,  our  battery  had  the  best  of  the  practice,  but  not 
without  paying  the  price,  for  the  second  rebel  shell  killed 
the  major  (chief  of  artillery  of  our  division),  who  sat  on 
his  horse  directing  the  fire,  and  besides  there  were  a  num 
ber  of  casualties  among  the  battery  men.  I  had  seen  many 
a  battery  practice  on  parade  occasions  with  blank  car 
tridges.  How  utterly  different  was  the  thing  in  war.  In 
finitely  more  savage,  the  noise  deafeningly  multiplied,  each 
gun,  regardless  of  the  others,  doing  its  awful  worst  to  spit 
out  and  hurl  as  from  the  mouth  of  a  hell-born  dragon  these 
missiles  of  death  at  the  enemy. 

The  duel  continued  for  upwards  of  two  hours,  until  the 
enemy's  battery  hauled  off,  having  apparently  had  enough. 
Evidences  of  the  conflict  were  sadly  abundant.  A  number 
were  killed,  others  wounded  and  several  of  the  battery 
horses  were  killed.  The  work  of  the  men  in  this  hell  of 

53 


War  from  the  Inside 

fire  was  magnificent.  They  never  flagged  for  a  moment, 
and  at  the  conclusion  were  not  in  the  least  disabled,  not 
withstanding  their  losses.  I  think  it  was  Nimm's  battery 
from  Pittsburg.  This  was  the  chief  incident  of  the  day. 
It  was  said  the  two  armies  were  manoeuvring  for  position, 
and  that  a  great  battle  was  imminent.  This  from  my 
diary.  It  proved  to  be  true,  and  that  all  the  skirmishes 
and  "  affaires"  for  the  preceding  ten  days  had  been  only 
preliminary  to  the  great  battle  of  Antietam,  fought  on  the 
next  day,  the  I7th. 

We  remained  in  bivouac  here  the  remainder  of  the  day 
and  night.  Burnside's  Ninth  Corps  passed  to  "  the  front" 
during  the  afternoon,  a  splendid  body  of  veteran  troops, 
whose  handsome  and  popular  general  was  heartily 
cheered.  He  was  a  large,  heavily-built  man,  and  sat  his 
handsome  horse  like  a  prince. 


54 


CHAPTER   V 


THE    BATTLE    OF    ANTIETAM 

NEVER  did  day  open  more  beautiful.  We  were  astir  at 
the  first  streak  of  dawn.  We  had  slept,  and  soundly  too, 
just  where  nightfall  found  us  under  the  shelter  of  the  hill 
near  Keedysville.  No  reveille  call  this  morning.  Too 
close  to  the  enemy.  Nor  was  this  needed  to  arouse  us.  A 
simple  call  of  a  sergeant  or  corporal  and  every  man  was 
instantly  awake  and  alert.  All  realized  that  there  was 
ugly  business  and  plenty  of  it  just  ahead.  This  was 
plainly  visible  in  the  faces  as  well  as  in  the  nervous,  sub 
dued  demeanor  of  all.  The  absence  of  all  joking  and  play 
and  the  almost  painful  sobriety  of  action,  where  jollity  had 
been  the  rule,  was  particularly  noticeable. 

Before  proceeding  with  the  events  of  the  battle,  I  should 
speak  of  the  "  night  before  the  battle,"  of  which  so  much 
has  been  said  and  written.  My  diary  says  that  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Wilcox,  Captain  James  Archbald,  Co.  I,  and 
I  slept  together,  sharing  our  blankets ;  that  it  rained  dur 
ing  the  night ;  this  fact,  with  the  other,  that  we  were  close 
friends  at  home,  accounts  for  our  sharing  blankets.  Three 
of  us  with  our  gum  blankets  could  so  arrange  as  to  keep 
fairly  dry,  notwithstanding  the  rain. 

The  camp  was  ominously  still  this  night.  We  were  not 
allowed  to  sing  or  make  any  noise,  nor  have  any  fires — 

55 


War  from  the  Inside 

except  just  enough  to  make  coffee — for  fear  of  attracting 
the  fire  of  the  enemies'  batteries.  But  there  was  no  need 
of  such  an  inhibition  as  to  singing  or  frolicking,  for  there 
was  no  disposition  to  indulge  in  either.  Unquestionably, 
the  problems  of  the  morrow  were  occupying  all  breasts. 
Letters  were  written  home — many  of  them  "  last  words" 
— and  quiet  talks  were  had,  and  promises  made  between 
comrades.  Promises  providing  against  the  dreaded  possi 
bilities  of  the  morrow.  "  If  the  worst  happens,  Jack." 

'  Yes,  Ned,  send  word  to  mother  and  to ,  and  these; 

she  will  prize  them,"  and  so  directions  were  interchange4 
that  meant  so  much. 

I  can  never  forget  the  quiet  words  of  Colonel  Oakford, 
as  he  inquired  very  particularly  if  my  roster  of  the  officers 
and  men  of  the  regiment  was  complete,  for,  said  he,  with  a 
smile,  "  We  shall  not  all  be  here  to-morrow  night." 

Now  to  resume  the  story  of  the  battle.  We  were  on  the 
march  about  six  o'clock  and  moved,  as  I  thought,  rather 
leisurely  for  upwards  of  two  miles,  crossing  Antietam 
creek,  which  our  men  waded  nearly  waist  deep,  emerging, 
of  course,  soaked  through,  our  first  experience  of  this  kind. 
It  was  a  hot  morning  and,  therefore,  the  only  ill  effects  of 
this  wading  was  the  discomfort  to  the  men  of  marching 
with  soaked  feet.  It  was  now  quite  evident  that  a  great 
battle  was  in  progress.  A  deafening  pandemonium  of 
cannonading,  with  shrieking  and  bursting  shells,  filled  the 
air  beyond  us,  towards  which  we  were  marching.  An  oc 
casional  shell  whizzed  by  or  over,  reminding  us  that  we 
were  rapidly  approaching  the  "  debatable  ground."  Soon 
we  began  to  hear  a  most  ominous  sound  which  we  had 
never  before  heard,  except  in  the  far  distance  at  South 

56 


The  Battle  of  Antietam 

Mountain,  namely,  the  rattle  of  musketry.  It  had  none 
of  the  deafening  bluster  of  the  cannonading  so  terrifying 
to  new  troops,  but  to  those  who  had  once  experienced  its 
effect,  it  was  infinitely  more  to  be  dreaded.  The  fatalities 
by  musketry  at  close  quarters,  as  the  two  armies  fought 
at  Antietam  and  all  through  the  Civil  War,  as  compared 
with  those  by  artillery,  are  at  least  as  100  to  I,  probably 
much  more  than  that. 

These  volleys  of  musketry  we  were  approaching 
sounded  in  the  distance  like  the  rapid  pouring  of  shot  upon 
a  tinpan,  or  the  tearing  of  heavy  canvas,  with  slight 
pauses  interspersed  with  single  shots,  or  desultory  shoot 
ing.  All  this  presaged  fearful  work  in  store  for  us,  with 
what  results  to  each  personally  the  future,  measured  prob 
ably  by  moments,  would  reveal. 

How  does  one  feel  under  such  conditions  ?  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  realized  the  situation  most  keenly  and  felt  very 
uncomfortable.  Lest  there  might  be  some  undue  mani 
festation  of  this  feeling  in  my  conduct,  I  said  to  myself, 
this  is  the  duty  I  undertook  to  perform  for  my  country, 
and  now  I'll  do  it,  and  leave  the  results  with  God.  My 
greater  fear  was  not  that  I  might  be  killed,  but  that  I 
might  be  grievously  wounded  and  left  a  victim  of  suffer 
ing  on  the  field. 

The  nervous  strain  was  plainly  visible  upon  all  of  us. 
All  moved  doggedly  forward  in  obedience  to  orders,  in  ab 
solute  silence  so  far  as  talking  was  concerned.  The  com 
pressed  lip  and  set  teeth  showed  that  nerve  and  resolution 
had  been  summoned  to  the  discharge  of  duty.  A  few 
temporarily  fell  out,  unable  to  endure  the  nervous  strain, 
which  was  simply  awful.  There  were  a  few  others,  it 

57 


War  from  the  Inside 

must  be  said,  who  skulked,  took  counsel  of  their  cowardly 
legs,  and,  despite  all  efforts  of  "  file  closers"  and  officers, 
left  the  ranks.  Of  these  two  classes  most  of  the  first  re 
joined  us  later  on,  and  their  dropping  out  was  no  reflection 
on  their  bravery.  The  nervous  strain  produced  by  the 
excitement  and  danger  gave  them  the  malady  called  by 
the  vets,  the  "  cannon  quickstep." 

On  our  way  into  "  position"  we  passed  the  "  Meyer 
Spring," — a  magnificent  fountain  of  sweet  spring  water. 
It  was  walled  in,  and  must  have  been  ten  or  twelve  feet 
square  and  at  least  three  feet  deep,  and  a  stream  was  flow 
ing  from  it  large  enough  to  make  a  respectable  brook. 
Many  of  us  succeeded  in  filling  our  canteens  from  this 
glorious  spring,  now  surrounded  by  hundreds  of  wounded 
soldiers.  What  a  Godsend  it  was  to  those  poor  fellows. 

About  eight  o'clock  we  were  formed  into  line  of  battle 
and  moved  forward  through  a  grove  of  trees,*  but  before 
actually  coming  under  musketry  fire  of  the  enemy  we  were 
moved  back  again,  and  swung  around  nearly  a  mile  to  the 
left  to  the  base  of  a  circular  knoll  to  the  left  of  the  Rou 
lette  farm-house  and  the  road  which  leads  up  to  the 
Sharpsburg  pike,  near  the  Dunkard  church.  The  famous 
"  sunken  road" — a  road  which  had  been  cut  through  the 
other  side  of  this  knoll — extended  from  the  Roulette  Lane 
directly  in  front  of  our  line  towards  Sharpsburg.  I  had 
ridden  by  the  side  of  Colonel  Oakford,  except  when  on 
duty,  up  and  down  the  column,  and  as  the  line  was  formed 
by  the  colonel  and  ordered  forward,  we  dismounted  and 
sent  our  horses  to  the  rear  by  a  servant.  I  was  imme 
diately  sent  by  the  colonel  to  the  left  of  the  line  to  assist 

*  Now  known  as  East  Woods. 
58 


COLONEL     RICHARD    A.    OAKFORD 

Killed  at  battle  of  Antietam,  September  17,  1862 


The  Battle  of  Antietam 

in  getting  that  into  position.  A  rail  fence  separated  us 
from  the  top  of  the  knoll.  Bullets  were  whizzing  and 
singing  by  our  ears,  but  so  far  hitting  none  where  I  was. 
Over  the  fence  and  up  the  knoll  in  an  excellent  line  we 
went.  In  the  centre  of  the  knoll,  perhaps  a  third  of  the 
way  up,  was  a  large  tree,  and  under  and  around  this  tree 
lay  a  body  of  troops  doing  nothing.  They  were  in  our 
way,  but  our  orders  were  forward,  and  through  and  over 
them  we  went. 

Reaching  the  top  of  the  knoll  we  were  met  by  a  terrific 
volley  from  the  rebels  in  the  sunken  road  down  the  other 
side,  not  more  than  one  hundred  yards  away,  and  also 
from  another  rebel  line  in  a  corn-field  just  beyond.  Some 
of  our  men  were  killed  and  wounded  by  this  volley.  We 
were  ordered  to  lie  down  just  under  the  top  of  the  hill  and 
crawl  forward  and  fire  over,  each  man  crawling  back,  re 
loading  his  piece  in  this  prone  position  and  again  crawling 
forward  and  firing.  These  tactics  undoubtedly  saved  us 
many  lives,  for  the  fire  of  the  two  lines  in  front  of  us  was 
terrific.  The  air  was  full  of  whizzing,  singing,  buzzing 
bullets.  Once  down  on  the  ground  under  cover  of  the 
hill,  it  required  very  strong  resolution  to  get  up  where 
these  missiles  of  death  were  flying  so  thickly,  yet  that  was 
the  duty  of  us  officers,  especially  us  of  the  field  and  staff. 
My  duty  kept  me  constantly  moving  up  and  down  that 
whole  line. 

On  my  way  back  to  the  right  of  the  line,  where  I  had 
left  Colonel  Oakford,  I  met  Lieutenant-Colonel  Wilcox, 
who  told  me  the  terrible  news  that  Colonel  Oakford  was 
killed.  Of  the  details  of  his  death,  I  had  no  time  then  to 
inquire.  We  were  then  in  the  very  maelstrom  of  the 

59 


War  from  the  Inside 

battle.  Men  were  falling  every  moment.  The  horrible 
noise  of  the  battle  was  incessant  and  almost  deafening. 
Except  that  my  mind  was  so  absorbed  in  my  duties,  I  do 
not  know  how  I  could  have  endured  the  strain.  Yet  out 
of  this  pandemonium  memory  brings  several  remarkable 
incidents.  They  came  and  went  with  the  rapidity  of  a 
quickly  revolving  kaleidoscope.  You  caught  stupendous 
incidents  on  the  instant,  and  in  an  instant  they  had  passed. 
One  was  the  brave  death  of  the  major  of  this  regiment 
that  was  lying  idle  under  the  tree.  The  commanding 
officer  evidently  was  not  doing  his  duty,  and  this  major 
was  endeavoring  to  rally  his  men  and  get  them  at  work. 
He  was  swinging  his  hat  and  cheering  his  men  forward, 
when  a  solid  shot  decapitated  him.  His  poor  body  went 
down  as  though  some  giant  had  picked  it  up  and  furiously 
slammed  it  on  the  ground,  and  I  was  so  near  him  that  I 
could  almost  have  touched  him  with  my  sword. 

The  inaction  of  this  regiment  lying  behind  us  under  that 
tree  was  very  demoralizing  to  our  men,  setting  them  a  bad 
example.  General  Kimball,  who  commanded  our  brigade, 
was  seated  on  his  horse  just  under  the  knoll  in  the  rear  of 
our  regiment,  evidently  watching  our  work,  and  he  sig 
nalled  me  to  come  to  him,  and  then  gave  me  orders  to 
present  his  compliments  to  the  commanding  officer  of  that 
regiment  and  direct  him  to  get  his  men  up  and  at  work. 
I  communicated  this  order  as  directed.  The  colonel  was 
hugging  the  ground,  and  merely  turned  his  face  towards 
me  without  replying  or  attempting  to  obey  the  order. 
General  Kimball  saw  the  whole  thing,  and  again  called 
me  to  him  and,  with  an  oath,  commanded  me  to  repeat 
the  order  to  him  at  the  muzzle  of  my  revolver,  and  shoot 

60 


The  Battle  of  Antietam 

him  if  he  did  not  immediately  obey.  Said  General  Kim- 
ball  :  "  Get  those  cowards  out  of  there  or  shoot  them." 
My  task  was  a  most  disagreeable  one,  but  I  must  deliver 
my  orders,  and  did  so,  but  was  saved  the  duty  of  shooting 
by  the  other  officers  of  the  regiment  bravely  rallying  their 
men  and  pushing  them  forward  to  the  firing-line,  where 
they  did  good  work.  What  became  of  that  skulking  col 
onel,  I  do  not  know. 

The  air  was  now  thick  with  smoke  from  the  muskets, 
which  not  only  obscured  our  vision  of  the  enemy,  but  made 
breathing  difficult  and  most  uncomfortable.  The  day  was 
excessively  hot,  and  no  air  stirring,  we  were  forced  to 
breathe  this  powder  smoke,  impregnated  with  saltpetre, 
which  burned  the  coating  of  nose,  throat,  and  eyes  almost 
like  fire. 

Captain  Abbott,  commanding  Company  G,  from  Mauch 
Chunk,  a  brave  and  splendid  officer,  was  early  carried  to 
the  rear,  a  ball  having  nearly  carried  away  his  under  jaw. 
He  afterwards  told  me  that  his  first  sensation  of  this  awful 
wound  was  his  mouth  full  of  blood,  teeth,  and  splintered 
bones,  which  he  spat  out  on  the  ground,  and  then  found 
that  unless  he  got  immediate  help  he  would  bleed  to  death 
in  a  few  minutes.  Fortunately  he  found  Assistant  Sur 
geon  Hoover,  who  had  been  assigned  to  us  just  from  his 
college  graduation,  who,  under  the  shelter  of  a  hay-stack, 
with  no  anaesthetic,  performed  an  operation  which  Dr. 
Gross,  of  Philadelphia,  afterwards  said  had  been  but  once 
before  successfully  performed  in  the  history  of  surgery, 
and  saved  his  life.  Lieutenant  Anson  C.  Cranmer,  Com 
pany  C,  was  killed,  and  the  ground  was  soon  strewn  with 
the  dead  and  wounded.  Soon  our  men  began  to  call  for 

61 


War  from  the  Inside 

more  ammunition,  and  we  officers  were  kept  busy  taking 
from  the  dead  and  wounded  and  distributing  to  the 
living.  Each  man  had  eighty  rounds  when  we  began  the 
fight.  One  man  near  me  rose  a  moment,  when  a  missile 
struck  his  gun  about  midway,  and  actually  capsized  him. 
He  pulled  himself  together,  and,  finding  he  was  only  a 
little  bruised,  picked  up  another  gun,  with  which  the 
ground  was  now  strewn,  and  went  at  it  again. 

Directly,  a  lull  in  the  enemy's  firing  occurred,  and  we 
had  an  opportunity  to  look  over  the  hill  a  little  more  care 
fully  at  their  lines.  Their  first  line  in  the  sunken  road 
seemed  to  be  all  dead  or  wounded,  and  several  of  our  men 
ran  down  there,  to  find  that  literally  true.  They  brought 
back  the  lieutenant-colonel,  a  fine-looking  man,  who  was 
mortally  wounded.  I  shook  his  hand,  and  he  said,  "  God 
bless  you,  boys,  you  are  very  kind."  He  asked  to  be  laid 
down  in  some  sheltered  place,  for,  said  he,  "  I  have  but  a 
few  moments  to  live."  I  well  remember  his  refined,  gen 
tlemanly  appearance,  and  how  profoundly  sorry  I  felt  for 
him.  He  was  young,  lithely  built,  of  sandy  complexion, 
and  wore  a  comparatively  new  uniform  of  Confederate 
gray,  on  which  was  embroidered  the  insignia  of  the  "  5th 
Ga.,*  C.  S.  A."  He  said,  "  You  have  killed  all  my  brave 
boys ;  they  are  there  in  the  road."  And  they  were,  I  saw 
them  next  day  lying  four  deep  in  places  as  they  fell,  a 
most  awful  picture  of  battle  carnage.  This  lull  was  of 
very  short  duration,  and  like  the  lull  of  a  storm  presaged 

*  This  is  from  my  diary,  but  investigations  since  the  war  make  it 
evident  that  it  must  be  a  mistake ;  that  the  5th  Ga.  was  not  in  that 
road,  but  it  was  the  6th  Ga.,  and  this  officer  was  probably  Lieu 
tenant-Colonel  J.  M.  Newton  of  that  regiment. 

62 


SILENCED    CONFEDERATE    BATTERY    IN     FRONT    OF    DUNKER    CHURCH 
SHARPSBURG     ROAD,    ANTIETAM 

This  little  brick  church  lay  between  the  opposing  lines,  and  both 
Union  and  Confederate  wounded  were  gathered  in  it 


The  Battle  of  Antietam 

a  renewal  of  the  firing  with  greater  fury,  for  a  fresh  line 
of  rebel  troops  had  been  brought  up.  This  occurred  three 
times  before  we  were  relieved. 

During  the  fiercest  of  the  firing,  another  remarkable  in 
cident  occurred,  which  well  illustrated  the  fortunes  of  war. 
I  heard  a  man  shouting,  "  Come  over  here  men,  you  can 
see  'em  better,"  and  there,  over  the  brow  of  the  knoll,  ab 
solutely  exposed,  was  Private  George  Coursen,  of  Com 
pany  K,  sitting  on  a  boulder,  loading  and  firing  as  calmly 
as  though  there  wasn't  a  rebel  in  the  country.  I  yelled  to 
him  to  come  back  under  the  cover  of  the  hill-top,  but  he 
said  he  could  see  the  rebels  better  there,  and  refused  to 
leave  his  vantage-ground.  I  think  he  remained  there 
until  we  were  ordered  back  and  did  not  receive  a  scratch. 
His  escape  was  nothing  less  than  a  miracle.  He  seemed 
to  have  no  idea  of  fear. 

A  remarkable  fact  about  our  experience  during  this 
fight  was  that  we  took  no  note  of  time.  When  we  were 
out  of  ammunition  and  about  to  move  back  I  looked  at  my 
watch  and  found  it  was  12.30  P.M.  We  had  been  under 
fire  since  eight  o'clock.  I  couldn't  believe  my  eyes;  was 
sure  my  watch  had  gone  wrong.  I  would  have  sworn 
that  we  had  not  been  there  more  than  twenty  minutes, 
when  we  had  actually  been  in  that  very  hell  of  fire  for  four 
and  a  half  hours. 

Just  as  we  were  moving  back,  the  Irish  brigade  came 
up,  under  command  of  General  Thomas  Francis  Meagher. 
They  had  been  ordered  to  complete  our  work  by  a  charge, 
and  right  gallantly  they  did  it.  Many  of  our  men,  not 
understanding  the  order,  joined  in  that  charge.  General 
Meagher  rode  a  beautiful  white  horse,  but  made  a  show  of 

63 


War  from  the  Inside 

himself  by  tumbling  off  just  as  he  reached  our  line.  The 
boys  said  he  was  drunk,  and  he  certainly  looked  and  acted 
like  a  drunken  man.  He  regained  his  feet  and  floundered 
about,  swearing  like  a  crazy  man.  The  brigade,  however, 
made  a  magnificent  charge  and  swept  everything  before  it. 

Another  incident  occurred  during  the  time  we  were 
under  fire.  My  attention  was  arrested  by  a  heavily  built 
general  officer  passing  to  the  rear  on  foot.  He  came  close 
by  me  and  as  he  passed  he  shouted :  "  You  will  have  to 
get  back.  Don't  you  see  yonder  line  of  rebels  is  flanking 
you?7'  I  looked  in  the  direction  he  pointed,  and,  sure 
enough,  on  our  right  and  now  well  to  our  rear  was  an 
extended  line  of  rebel  infantry  with  their  colors  flying, 
moving  forward  almost  with  the  precision  of  a  parade. 
They  had  thrown  forward  a  beautiful  skirmish  line  and 
seemed  to  be  practicality  masters  of  the  situation.  My 
heart  was  in  my  mouth  for  a  couple  of  moments,  until 
suddenly  the  picture  changed,  and  their  beautiful  line 
collapsed  and  went  back  as  if  the  d — 1  was  after  them. 
They  had  run  up  against  an  obstruction  in  a  line  of  the 
"  boys  in  blue/'  and  many  of  them  never  went  back. 
This  general  officer  who  spoke  to  me,  I  learned,  was 
Major-General  Richardson,  commanding  the  First  Di 
vision,  then  badly  wounded,  and  who  died  a  few  hours 
after. 

Our  regiment  now  moved  back  and  to  the  right  some 
three-quarters  of  a  mile,  where  we  were  supplied  with 
ammunition,  and  the  men  were  allowed  to  make  them 
selves  a  cup  of  coffee  and  eat  a  "  hardtack."  I  was  faint 
for  want  of  food,  for  I  had  only  a  cup  of  coffee  in  the 
early  morning,  and  was  favored  with  a  hardtack  by  one 

64 


The  Eattle  of  Antietam 

of  the  men,  who  were  always  ready  and  willing  to  share 
their  rations  with  us.  We  now  learned  that  our  brigade 
had  borne  the  brunt  of  a  long  and  persistent  effort  by  Lee 
to  break  our  line  at  this  point,  and  that  we  were  actually 
the  third  line  which  had  been  thrown  into  this  breach, 
the  other  two  having  been  wiped  out  before  we  ad 
vanced  ;  that  as  a  matter  of  fact  our  brigade,  being  com 
posed  so  largely  of  raw  troops — our  regiment  being  really 
more  than  half  the  brigade  in  actual  number — was  de 
signed  to  be  held  in  reserve.  But  the  onslaught  of  the 
enemy  had  been  so  terrific,  that  by  eight  o'clock  A.M. 
our  reserve  line  was  all  there  was  left  and  we  had  to  be 
sent  in.  The  other  three  regiments  were  veterans,  old  and 
tried.  They  had  an  established  reputation  of  having  never 
once  been  forced  back  or  whipped,  but  the  One  Hundred 
and  Thirty-second  was  new  and,  except  as  to  numbers, 
an  unknown  quantity.  We  had  been  unmercifully  guyed 
during  the  two  preceding  weeks,  as  I  have  said  before,  as 
a  lot  of  "  greenhorns,"  "  pretty  boys"  in  "  pretty  new 
clothes,"  "  mamma's  darlings,"  etc.,  etc.,  to  the  end  of 
the  vets'  slang  calendar.  Now  that  we  had  proved  our 
metal  under  fire,  the  atmosphere  was  completely  changed. 
Not  the  semblance  of  another  jibe  against  the  One  Hun 
dred  and  Thirty-second  Pennsylvania  Volunteers. 

We  did  not  know  how  well  we  had  done,  only  that  we 
had  tried  to  do  our  duty  under  trying  circumstances,  until 
officers  and  men  from  other  regiments  came  flocking  over 
to  congratulate  and  praise  us.  I  didn't  even  know  we 
had  passed  through  the  fire  of  a  great  battle  until  the 
colonel  of  the  Fourteenth  Indiana  came  over  to  condole 
with  us  on  the  loss  of  Colonel  Oakford,  and  incidentally 
s  65 


War  from  the  Inside 

told  us  that  this  was  undoubtedly  the  greatest  battle  of 
the  war  thus  far,  and  that  we  probably  would  never  have 
such  another. 

After  getting  into  our  new  position,  I  at  once  began 
to  look  up  our  losses.  I  learned  that  Colonel  Oakford 
was  killed  by  one  of  the  rebel  sharp-shooters  just  as  the 
regiment  scaled  the  fence  in  its  advance  up  the  knoll, 
and  before  we  had  fired  a  shot.  It  must  have  occurred 
almost  instantly  after  I  left  him  with  orders  for  the  left 
of  the  line.  I  was  probably  the  last  to  whom  he  spoke. 
He  was  hit  by  a  minie-ball  in  the  left  shoulder,  just 
below  the  collar-bone.  The  doctor  said  the  ball  had 
severed  one  of  the  large  arteries,  and  he  died  in  a  very 
few  minutes.  He  had  been  in  command  of  the  regiment 
a  little  more  than  a  month,  but  during  that  brief  time  his 
work  as  a  disciplinarian  and  drill-master  had  made  it 
possible  for  us  to  acquit  ourselves  as  creditably  as  they 
all  said  we  had  done.  General  Kimball  was  loud  in  our 
praise  and  greatly  lamented  Colonel  Oakford's  death, 
whom  he  admired  very  much.  He  was  a  brave,  able, 
and  accomplished  officer  and  gentleman,  and  his  loss  to 
the  regiment  was  irreparable. 

Had  Colonel  Oakford  lived  his  record  must  have  been 
brilliant  and  his  promotion  rapid,  for  very  few  volunteer 
officers  had  so  quickly  mastered  the  details  of  military 
tactics  and  routine.  He  was  a  thorough  disciplinarian, 
an  able  tactician,  and  the  interests  and  welfare  of  his 
men  were  constantly  upon  his  heart. 

My  diary  records  the  fact  that  I  saw  Captain  Willard, 
of  the  Fourteenth  Connecticut,  fall  as  we  passed  their 
line  on  our  way  to  the  rear;  that  he  appeared  to  have 

66 


The  Battle  of  Antietam 

been  hit  by  a  grape-shot  or  piece  of  shell.  I  did  not 
know  him,  only  heard  that  he  was  a  brother  of  E.  N. 
Willard,  of  Scranton.  The  Fourteenth  Connecticut  men 
said  he  was  a  fine  man  and  splendid  officer. 

Among  the  wounded — reported  mortally — was  Ser 
geant  Martin  Hower,  of  Company  K,  one  of  our  very 
best  non-commissioned  officers.  I  saw  him  at  the  hospital, 
and  it  was  very  hard  to  be  able  to  do  nothing  for  him. 
It  seemed  our  loss  must  reach  upward  of  two  hundred 
killed,  wounded  and  missing.  Out  of  seven  hundred 
and  ninety-eight  who  answered  to  roll-call  in  the  morning, 
we  had  with  us  less  than  three  hundred  at  the  close  of  the 
fight.  Our  actual  loss  was :  Killed — Officers,  two  ( Col 
onel  Oakford  and  Lieutenant  Cranmer;  men,  twenty- 
eight;  total,  thirty.  Wounded — Officers,  four;  men,  one 
hundred  and  ten ;  total,  one  hundred  and  forty- four.  To 
this  should  be  added  at  least  thirty  of  the  men  who  died 
of  their  wounds  within  the  next  few  days,  which  would 
make  our  death  loss  in  this  battle  upward  of  sixty.  Of 
the  missing,  many  of  them  were  of  those  who  joined  the 
Irish  brigade  in  their  charge,  and  who  did  not  find  us 
again  for  a  day  or  so.  It  may  seem  strange  that  a  man 
should  not  be  able  to  find  his  regiment  for  so  long  a  time, 
when  really  it  is  so  close  at  hand.  But  when  one  remem 
bers  that  our  army  of  about  seventy-five  thousand  men 
had  upward  of  two  hundred  regiments  massed  within  say 
two  square  miles,  and  that  they  were  constantly  changing 
position,  it  will  be  seen  that  looking  for  any  one  regiment 
is  almost  like  looking  for  a  needle  in  a  hay-mow. 


67 


CHAPTER   VI 


THE    BATTLE   OF    ANTIETAM — CONTINUED 

DURING  the  afternoon  of  this  day  we  were  again  moved 
further  to  the  right  and  placed  as  supports  of  a  battery. 
We  were  posted  about  two  hundred  yards  directly  in 
front  of  the  guns  on  low  ground.  The  battery  was  evi 
dently  engaged  in  another  artillery  duel.  We  were  in  a 
comparatively  safe  position,  so  long  as  the  rebel  guns 
directed  their  firing  at  our  battery ;  but  after  a  time  they 
began  "  feeling  for  the  supports,"  first  dropping  their 
shells  beyond  our  guns,  then  in  front  of  them,  until  they 
finally  got  a  pretty  good  range  on  our  line  and  filled  the 
air  with  bursting  shells  over  our  heads.  One  and  another 
was  carried  to  the  rear,  wounded,  and  the  line  became  very 
restive.  We  were  required  to  lie  perfectly  quiet.  We 
found  this  very  much  more  trying  than  being  at  work, 
and  the  line  began  to  show  symptoms  of  wavering,  when 
General  Kimball,  who  with  his  staff  had  dismounted  and 
was  resting  near  us,  immediately  mounted  his  horse  and, 
riding  up  and  down  the  line,  shouted :  "  Stand  firm,  trust 
in  God,  and  do  your  duty." 

It  was  an  exceedingly  brave  act,  and  its  effect  was 
electric  upon  the  men.  There  was  no  more  wavering,  and 
the  rebel  battery,  evidently  thinking  they  had  not  found 
the  "  supports,"  soon  ceased  firing  upon  us.  It  was  now 

68 


The  Battle  of  Antietam 

near  night  and  the  firing  very  perceptibly  slackened  in  our 
vicinity,  though  a  mile  or  more  to  the  left  it  still  continued 
very  heavy.  This,  we  afterwards  learned,  was  the  work 
at  what  has  passed  into  history  as  "  Burnside's"  bridge — 
the  effort  of  Burnside's  corps  to  capture  the  stone  bridge 
over  Antietam  creek,  near  the  village  of  Sharpsburg,  and 
the  heights  beyond.  These  were  gallantly  carried  after  a 
terrific  fight  quite  late  in  the  afternoon. 

Our  work,  so  far  as  this  battle  was  concerned,  was  done. 
We  rested  "  on  our  arms"  where  we  were  for  the  next 
forty-eight  hours,  expecting  all  the  next  day  a  renewal 
of  the  fighting;  but  nothing  was  done  in  our  neighbor 
hood  beyond  a  few  shots  from  the  battery  we  were  sup 
porting.  On  the  second  day  it  became  known  that  Lee 
had  hauled  off,  and  there  was  no  immediate  prospect  of 
further  fighting.  Our  companies  were  permitted  to  gather 
up  their  dead,  and  burying  parties  were  organized. 

We  were  allowed  to  go  over  the  field  freely.  It  was 
a  gruesome  sight.  Our  own  dead  had  been  cared  for,  but 
the  rebel  dead  remained  as  they  had  fallen.  In  the  hot 
sun  the  bodies  had  swollen  and  turned  black.  Nearly  all 
lay  with  faces  up  and  eyes  wide  open,  presenting  a  spec 
tacle  to  make  one  shudder.  The  distended  nostrils  and 
thickened  lips  made  them  look  like  negroes,  except  for 
their  straight  hair.  Their  limbs  and  bodies  were  so  en 
larged  that  their  clothing  seemed  ready  to  burst.  Some 
ghouls  had  been  among  them,  whether  from  their  own 
lines  or  from  ours,  could  not  be  known,  but  every  man's 
pockets  had  been  ripped  out  and  the  contents  taken. 

In  company  with  Captain  Archbald  I  went  over  the 
position  occupied  by  our  regiment  and  brigade,  the 

69 


War  from  the  Inside 

famous  "  sunken  road," — that  is,  the  lane  or  road  extend 
ing  from  near  the  "  Roulette  house"  towards  Sharpsburg. 
For  some  distance  it  had  been  cut  through  the  opposite 
side  of  the  knoll  upon  which  we  fought,  and  had  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  sunken  road.  It  was  literally  filled  with 
rebel  dead,  which  in  some  places  lay  three  and  four  bodies 
deep.  We  afterwards  saw  pictures  of  this  road  in  the 
illustrated  papers,  which  partially  portrayed  the  horrible 
scene.  Those  poor  fellows  were  the  Fifth  *  Georgia 
regiment.  This  terrible  work  was  mostly  that  of  our 
regiment,  and  bore  testimony  to  the  effectiveness  of  the 
fire  of  our  men. 

The  position  was  an  alluring  one:  the  road  was  cut 
into  the  hill  about  waist  high,  and  seemed  to  offer  secure 
protection  to  a  line  of  infantry,  and  so  no  doubt  this  line 
was  posted  there  to  hold  the  knoll  and  this  Sharpsburg 
road.  It  proved,  however,  nothing  but  a  death-trap,  for 
once  our  line  got  into  position  on  the  top  of  this  crescent- 
shaped  ridge  we  could  reach  them  by  a  direct  fire  on  the 
centre  and  a  double  flanking  fire  at  the  right  and  left  of 
the  line,  and  only  about  one  hundred  yards  away.  With 
nothing  but  an  open  field  behind  them  there  was  abso 
lutely  no  escape,  nothing  but  death  or  surrender,  and  they 
evidently  chose  the  former,  for  we  saw  no  white  flag  dis 
played.  We  could  now  understand  the  remark  of  their 
lieutenant-colonel,  whom  our  boys  brought  in,  as  already 
mentioned :  "  You  have  killed  all  my  poor  boys.  They 
lie  there  in  the  road."  I  learned  later  that  the  few  sur 
vivors  of  this  regiment  were  sent  South  to  guard  rebel 
prisoners. 

*  Probably  the  6th  Ga. 
70 


SECTION    OF    FAMOUS   SUNKEN    ROAD   IN    FRONT   OF   LINE   OF    1320   P.  V.,    NEAR    ROULETTE   LANE 

The  dead  are  probably  from  the  Sixth  Georgia  Confederate  troops 


The  Battle  of  Antietam 

The  lines  of  battle  of  both  armies  were  not  only  marked 
by  the  presence  of  the  dead,  but  by  a  vast  variety  of  army 
equipage,  such  as  blankets,  canteens,  haversacks,  guns, 
gun-slings,  bayonets,  ramrods,  some  whole,  others  broken, 
— verily,  a  besom  of  destruction  had  done  its  work  faith 
fully  here.  Dead  horses  were  everywhere,  and  the  stench 
from  them  and  the  human  dead  was  horrible.  "  Uncle" 
Billy  Sherman  has  said,  "  War  is  hell !"  yet  this  definition, 
with  all  that  imagination  can  picture,  fails  to  reveal  all  its 
bloody  horrors. 

The  positions  of  some  of  the  dead  were  very  striking. 
One  poor  fellow  lay  face  down  on  a  partially  fallen  stone 
wall,  with  one  arm  and  one  foot  extended,  as  if  in  the  act 
of  crawling  over.  His  position  attracted  our  attention, 
and  we  found  his  body  literally  riddled  with  bullets — there 
must  have  been  hundreds — and  most  of  them  shot  into 
him  after  he  was  dead,  for  they  showed  no  marks  of 
blood.  Probably  the  poor  fellow  had  been  wounded  in 
trying  to  reach  shelter  behind  that  wall,  was  spotted 
in  the  act  by  our  men,  and  killed  right  there,  and  became 
thereafter  a  target  for  every  new  man  that  saw  him. 
Another  man  lay,  still  clasping  his  musket,  which  he  was 
evidently  in  the  act  of  loading  when  a  bullet  pierced  his 
heart,  literally  flooding  his  gun  with  his  life's  blood,  a 
ghastly  testimonial  to  his  heroic  sacrifice. 

We  witnessed  the  burying  details  gathering  up  and 
burying  the  dead.  The  work  was  rough  and  heartless, 
but  only  comporting  with  the  character  of  war.  The  nat 
ural  reverence  for  the  dead  was  wholly  absent.  The  poor 
bodies,  all  of  them  heroes  in  their  death,  even  though  in 
a  mistaken  cause,  were  "  planted"  with  as  little  feeling  as 

71 


War  from  the  Inside 

though  they  had  been  so  many  logs.  A  trench  was  dug, 
where  the  digging  was  easiest,  about  seven  feet  wide  and 
long  enough  to  accommodate  all  the  bodies  gathered 
within  a  certain  radius;  these  were  then  placed  side  by 
side,  cross-wise  of  the  trench,  and  buried  without  any 
thing  to  keep  the  earth  from  them.  In  the  case  of  the 
Union  dead  the  trenches  were  usually  two  or  three  feet 
deep,  and  the  bodies  were  wrapped  in  blankets  before 
being  covered,  but  with  the  rebels  no  blankets  were  used, 
and  the  trenches  were  sometimes  so  shallow  as  to  leave 
the  toes  exposed  after  a  shower. 

No  ceremony  whatever  attended  this  gruesome  service, 
but  it  was  generally  accompanied  by  ribald  jokes,  at  the 
expense  of  the  poor  "  Johnny"  they  were  "  planting." 
This  was  not  the  fruit  of  debased  natures  or  degenerate 
hearts  on  the  part  of  the  boys,  who  well  knew  it  might  be 
their  turn  next,  under  the  fortunes  of  war,  to  be  buried 
in  like  manner,  but  it  was  recklessness  and  thoughtless 
ness,  born  of  the  hardening  influences  of  war. 

Having  now  given  some  account  of  the  scenes  in  which 
I  participated  during  the  battle  and  the  day  after,  let  us 
look  at  another  feature  of  the  battle,  and  probably  the 
most  heart-breaking  of  all,  the  field  hospital.  There  was 
one  established  for  our  division  some  three  hundred  yards 
in  our  rear,  under  the  shelter  of  a  hill.  Here  were  gath 
ered  as  rapidly  as  possible  the  wounded,  and  a  corps  of 
surgeons  were  busily  engaged  in  amputating  limbs  and 
dressing  wounds.  It  should  be  understood  that  the  ac 
commodations  were  of  the  rudest  character.  A  hospital 
tent  had  been  hurriedly  erected  and  an  old  house  and  barn 
utilized.  Of  course,  I  saw  nothing  of  it  or  its  work  until 

72 


The  Battle  of  Antietam 

the  evening  after  the  battle,  when  I  went  to  see  the  body 
of  our  dead  colonel  and  some  of  our  Scranton  boys  who 
were  wounded.  Outside  the  hospital  were  piles  of  ampu 
tated  arms,  legs,  and  feet,  thrown  out  with  as  little  care 
as  so  many  pieces  of  wood.  There  were  also  many  dead 
soldiers — those  who  had  died  after  reaching  the  hospital 
— lying  outside,  there  being  inside  scant  room  only  for  the 
living.  Here,  on  bunches  of  hay  and  straw,  the  poor 
fellows  were  lying  so  thickly  that  there  was  scarce  room 
for  the  surgeon  and  attendants  to  move  about  among 
them.  Others  were  not  allowed  inside,  except  officers  and 
an  occasional  friend  who  might  be  helping.  Our  chaplain 
spent  his  time  here  and  did  yeoman  service  helping  the 
wounded.  Yet  all  that  could  be  done  with  the  limited 
means  at  hand  seemed  only  to  accentuate  the  appalling 
need.  The  pallid,  appealing  faces  were  patient  with  a 
heroism  born  only  of  the  truest  metal.  I  was  told  by 
the  surgeons  that  such  expressions  as  this  were  not  infre 
quent  as  they  approached  a  man  in  his  "  turn"  :  "  Please, 
doctor,  attend  to  this  poor  fellow  next;  he's  worse  than 
I,"  and  this  when  his  own  life's  blood  was  fast  oozing 
away. 

Most  of  the  wounded  had  to  wait  hours  before  having 
their  wounds  dressed,  owing  to  insufficient  force  and  in 
adequate  facilities.  I  was  told  that  not  a  surgeon  had  his 
eyes  closed  for  three  days  after  this  battle.  The  doctors 
of  neighboring  towns  within  reach  came  and  voluntarily 
gave  their  services,  yet  it  is  doubtless  true  that  hundreds 
of  the  wounded  perished  for  want  of  prompt  and  proper 
care.  This  is  one  of  the  unavoidable  incidents  of  a  great 
battle — a  part  of  the  horrors  of  war.  The  rebel  wounded 

73 


War  from  the  Inside 


necessarily  were  second  to  our  own  in  receiving  care  from 
the  surgeons,  yet  they,  too,  received  all  the  attention  that 
was  possible  under  the  circumstances.  Some  of  their  sur 
geons  remained  with  their  wounded,  and  I  am  told  they 
and  our  own  surgeons  worked  together  most  energetically 
and  heroically  in  their  efforts  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of 
all,  whether  they  wore  the  blue  or  the  gray.  Suffering, 
it  has  been  said,  makes  all  the  world  akin.  So  here,  in 
our  lines,  the  wounded  rebel  was  lost  sight  of  in  the  suffer 
ing  brother. 

We  remained  on  the  battle-field  until  September  21, 
four  days  after  the  fight. 

My  notes  of  this  day  say  that  I  was  feeling  so  mis 
erable  as  to  be  scarcely  able  to  crawl  about,  yet  was 
obliged  to  remain  on  duty ;  that  Lieutenant-Colonel  Wil- 
cox,  now  in  command,  and  Major  Shreve  were  in  the 
same  condition.  This  was  due  to  the  nervous  strain 
through  which  we  had  passed,  and  to  insufficient  and  un 
wholesome  food.  As  stated  before,  we  had  been  obliged 
to  eat  whatever  we  could  get,  which  for  the  past  four 
days  had  been  mostly  green  field  corn  roasted  as  best  we 
could.  The  wonder  is  that  we  were  not  utterly  pros 
trated.  Nevertheless,  I  not  only  performed  all  my  duties, 
but  went  a  mile  down  the  Antietam  creek,  took  a  bath, 
and  washed  my  underclothing,  my  first  experience  in  the 
laundry  business. 

We  had  been  now  for  two  weeks  and  more  steadily  on 
the  march,  our  baggage  in  wagons  somewhere  en  route, 
without  the  possibility  of  a  change  of  clothing  or  of 
having  any  washing  done.  Most  of  this  time  marching 
in  a  cloud  of  dust  so  thick  that  one  could  almost  cut  it, 

74 


The  Battle  of  Antietam 

and  perspiring  freely,  one  can  imagine  our  condition. 
Bathing  as  frequently  as  opportunity  offered,  yet  our 
condition  was  almost  unendurable.  For  with  the  accu 
mulation  of  dirt  upon  our  body,  there  was  added  the  ever- 
present  scourge  of  the  army,  body  lice.  These  vermin, 
called  by  the  boys  "  graybacks,"  were  nearly  the  size  of  a 
grain  of  wheat,  and  derived  their  name  from  their  bluish- 
gray  color.  They  seemed  to  infest  the  ground  wherever 
there  had  been  a  bivouac  of  the  rebels,  and  following 
them  as  we  had,  during  all  of  this  campaign,  sleeping 
frequently  on  the  ground  just  vacated  by  them,  no  one 
was  exempt  from  this  plague.  They  secreted  themselves 
in  the  seams  of  the  clothing  and  in  the  armpits  chiefly.  A 
good  bath,  with  a  change  of  underclothing,  would  usually 
rid  one  of  them,  but  only  to  acquire  a  new  crop  in  the 
first  camp.  The  clothing  could  be  freed  of  them  by  boil 
ing  in  salt  water  or  by  going  carefully  over  the  seams 
and  picking  them  off.  The  latter  operation  was  a  fre 
quent  occupation  with  the  men  on  any  day  which  was 
warm  enough  to  permit  them  to  disrobe  for  the  purpose. 
One  of  the  most  laughable  sights  I  ever  beheld  was  the 
whole  brigade,  halted  for  a  couple  of  hours'  rest  one  hot 
day,  with  clothing  off,  "  skirmishing,"  as  the  boys  called 
it,  for  "  graybacks. "  This  was  one  of  the  many  unpoet- 
ical  features  of  army  life  which  accentuated  the  sacrifices 
one  made  to  serve  his  country. 

How  did  we  ordinarily  get  our  laundrying  done  ?  The 
enlisted  men  as  a  rule  always  did  it  themselves.  Occa 
sionally  in  camp  a  number  of  them  would  club  together 
and  hire  some  "  camp  follower"  or  some  other  soldier  to 
do  it.  Officers  of  sufficient  rank  to  have  a  servant,  of 

75 


War  from  the  Inside 

course,  readily  solved  the  question.  Those  of  us  of  lesser 
rank  could  generally  hire  it  done,  except  on  the  march. 
Then  we  had  to  be  our  own  laundrymen.  Having,  as  in 
the  above  instance,  no  change  of  clothing  at  hand,  the 
washing  followed  a  bath,  and  consisted  in  standing  in  the 
running  water  and  rubbing  as  much  of  the  dirt  out  of 
the  underwear  as  could  be  done  without  soap,  for  that 
could  not  be  had  for  love  or  money ;  then  hanging  them 
on  the  limb  of  a  tree  and  sitting  in  the  sun,  as  comfortable 
as  possible,  whilst  wind  and  sun  did  the  drying.  A 
"  snap-shot"  of  such  a  scene  would  no  doubt  be  interest 
ing.  But  "  snap-shots"  unfortunately  were  not  then  in 
vogue,  and  so  a  picture  of  high  art  must  perish.  We 
could  not  be  over  particular  about  having  our  clothes  dry. 
The  finishing  touches  were  added  as  we  wore  them  back 
to  camp. 

My  diary  notes  that  there  were  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-eight  rebel  dead  gathered  and  buried  from  in  front 
of  the  lines  of  our  division.  This  line  was  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  long,  and  this  was  mostly  our  work  (our  divi 
sion),  although  Richardson's  division  had  occupied  part 
of  this  ground  before  us,  but  had  been  so  quickly  broken 
that  they  had  not  made  much  impression  upon  the  enemy. 
Our  division  had  engaged  them  continuously  and  under 
a  terrific  fire  from  eight  o'clock  A.M.  until  12.30  P.M.  It 
may  be  asked  why  during  that  length  of  time  and  under 
such  a  fire  all  were  not  annihilated.  The  answer  is,  that 
inaccuracy  and  unsteadiness  in  firing  on  both  sides  greatly 
reduce  its  effectiveness,  and  taking  all  possible  advan 
tage  of  shelter  by  lying  prone  upon  the  ground  also  pre 
vents  losses;  but  the  above  number  of  rebel  dead,  it 

76 


FIELD     HOSPITAL 


The  Battle  of  Antietam 

should  be  remembered,  represents,  probably,  not  more 
than  twenty  to  twenty-five  per  cent,  of  their  casualties  in 
that  area  of  their  lines;  the  balance  were  wounded  and 
were  removed.  So  that  with  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
eight  dead  it  can  be  safely  estimated  that  their  losses  ex 
ceeded  four  thousand  killed  and  wounded  in  that  area. 
This  would  indicate  what  was  undoubtedly  true,  that  we 
were  in  the  very  heart  of  that  great  battle. 

Here  I  wish  to  say  that  some  chroniclers  of  battles  have 
undertaken  to  measure  the  effectiveness  and  bravery  of  the 
different  regiments,  batteries,  etc.,  by  the  numbers  they 
have  lost  in  certain  battles;  for  example,  one  historian 
has  made  a  book  grading  the  regiments  by  the  number  of 
men  they  lost  in  action,  assuming  that  the  more  men  killed 
and  wounded,  the  more  brilliant  and  brave  had  been  its 
work.  This  assumption  is  absolutely  fallacious.  Heavy 
losses  may  be  the  result  of  great  bravery  with  splendid 
work.  On  the  other  hand,  they  may  be  the  result  of  cow 
ardice  or  inefficiency.  Suppose,  under  trying  circum 
stances,  officers  lose  their  heads  and  fail  to  properly 
handle  their  men,  or  if  the  latter  prove  cowardly  and 
incapable  of  being  moved  with  promptness  to  meet  the 
exigency,  great  loss  usually  ensues,  and  this  would  be 
chargeable  to  cowardice  or  inefficiency.  According  to  the 
loss  way  of  estimating  fighting  regiments,  the  least  de 
serving  are  liable  to  be  credited  with  the  best  work.  The 
rule  is,  the  better  drilled,  disciplined,  and  the  better  offi 
cered,  the  less  the  losses  in  any  position  on  the  firing-line. 

One  regiment  I  have  in  mind,  with  which  we  were 
afterwards  brigaded,  illustrates  this  principle.  It  was  the 
First  Delaware  Volunteer  infantry.  It  was  a  three  years' 

77 


War  from  the  Inside 

regiment  and  had  been  in  the  field  more  than  a  year  when 
we  joined  them.  All  things  considered,  it  was  the  best 
drilled  and  disciplined  regiment  I  saw  in  the  service.  It 
was  as  steady  under  fire  as  on  parade.  Every  movement 
in  the  tactics  it  could  execute  on  the  jump,  and  its  fire 
was  something  to  keep  away  from.  The  result  was  that, 
pushed  everywhere  to  the  front  because  of  its  splendid 
work,  it  lost  comparatively  few  men.  Every  man  was  a 
marksman  and  understood  how  to  take  all  possible  advan 
tage  of  the  situation  to  make  his  work  most  effective  and 
at  the  same  time  take  care  of  himself.  This  regiment, 
whose  record  was  one  unbroken  succession  of  splendid 
achievements  during  its  whole  period  of  service,  might 
never  have  gotten  on  a  roll  of  fame  founded  on  numbers 
of  men  lost.  How  much  more  glorious  is  a  record 
founded  on  effective  work  and  men  saved ! 


CHAPTER   VII 


HARPER'S  FERRY  AND  THE  LEESBURG  AND  HALLTOWN 
EXPEDITIONS 

NEITHER  side  seemed  anxious  to  resume  the  fighting  on 
the  1 8th,  though  there  was  picket  firing  and  some  cannon 
ading.  We  remained  the  next  day  where  the  darkness 
found  us  after  the  battle,  ready  and  momentarily  expect 
ing  to  resume  the  work.  All  sorts  of  rumors  were  afloat 
as  to  the  results  of  the  battle,  also  as  to  future  movements. 
Whether  we  had  won  a  great  victory  and  were  to  press 
immediately  forward  to  reap  the  fullest  benefit  of  it,  or 
whether  it  was  practically  a  drawn  battle,  with  the  possi 
bilities  of  an  early  retreat,  we  did  not  then  know.  We 
had  no  idea  of  what  the  name  of  the  battle  would  be.  My 
diary  calls  it  the  battle  of  "  Meyer's  Spring,"  from  that 
magnificent  fountain,  on  our  line  of  battle,  described  in 
the  last  chapter.  The  Confederates  named  it  the  battle  of 
Sharpsburg,  from  the  village  of  that  name  on  the  right 
of  their  line.  Two  days  later,  after  the  rebels  had  hauled 
off — which  they  did  very  leisurely  the  next  day  and  night 
— we  received  "  Little  Mac's"  congratulatory  order  on  the 
great  victory  achieved  at  "  Antietam." 

So  far  as  our  part  of  the  battle  was  concerned,  we  knew 
we  had  the  best  of  it.  We  had  cleaned  up  everything  in 
our  front,  and  the  "  chip  was  still  serenely  resting  on  our 

79 


War  from  the  Inside 

shoulder."  But  what  had  been  the  outcome  elsewhere  on 
the  line  we  did  not  know.  That  our  army  had  been  terrific 
ally  battered  was  certain.  Our  own  losses  indicated  this. 
We  were  therefore  both  relieved  and  rejoiced  on  receiving 
the  congratulatory  order.  I  confess  to  have  had  some 
doubts  about  the  extent  of  the  victory,  and  whether,  had 
Lee  remained  and  shown  fight,  we  would  not  have  re 
peated  the  old  story  and  "  retired  in  good  order."  As  it 
was,  the  tide  had  evidently  turned,  and  the  magnificent  old 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  after  so  many  drubbings,  had  been 
able  to  score  its  first  decisive  victory. 

On  the  twenty-second  day  of  September  we  were  again 
on  the  march,  our  regiment  reduced  in  numbers,  from 
casualties  in  the  battle  and  from  sickness,  by  nearly  three 
hundred  men.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Wilcox  was  now  in 
command.  The  body  of  our  late  colonel  had  been  shipped 
to  Scranton  under  guard  of  Privates  S.  P.  Snyder  and 
Charles  A.  Meylert,  Company  K,  the  "  exigencies  of  the 
service"  permitting  of  no  larger  detail  nor  any  officer  to 
accompany  it. 

We  were  told  the  army  was  bound  for  Harper's  Ferry, 
distant  some  eight  to  ten  miles.  We  passed  through  the 
village  of  Sharpsburg — what  there  was  left  of  it.  It  had 
been  occupied  by  the  rebels  as  the  extreme  right  of  their 
line  on  the  morning  of  the  battle.  It  presented  abundant 
evidence  of  having  been  well  in  the  zone  of  the  fight.  Its 
buildings  were  riddled  with  shells,  and  confusion  seemed 
to  reign  supreme.  We  learned  that  Burnside,  with  the 
left  wing  of  the  army,  had  a  very  hot  argument  with  Lee's 
right  during  the  afternoon  for  the  possession  of  the  stone 
bridge  over  Antietam  creek  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  entering 

80 


Harper's  Ferry 

the  village;  that  after  two  repulses  with  heavy  loss,  Col 
onel  Hartranft( afterwards  Governor  of  Pennsylvania) led 
his  regiment,  the  Fifty-first  Pennsylvania  Volunteers  and 
the  Fifty-first  New  York,  in  a  magnificent  charge  and  car 
ried  the  bridge  and  the  heights  above,  and  Sharpsburg  was 
ours.  If  any  one  would  like  to  get  an  idea  of  what  terrific 
work  that  charge  was  they  should  examine  that  bridge  and 
the  heights  on  the  Sharpsburg  side.  The  latter  rise  almost 
perpendicularly  more  than  three  hundred  feet.  One  of 
the  "  boys"  who  went  over  that  bridge  and  up  those 
heights  in  that  memorable  charge  was  Private  Edward 
L.  Buck,  Fifty-first  Pennsylvania  Volunteers,  formerly 
Assistant  Postmaster  of  Scranton,  and  ever  since  the  war 
a  prominent  citizen  of  this  city.  That  bridge  is  now 
known  as  "  Burnside's  Bridge."  Forty-one  years  after 
wards,  I  passed  over  it,  and  was  shown  a  shell  still  sticking 
in  the  masonry  of  one  of  the  arches.  It  was  a  conical 
shell  probably  ten  inches  long,  about  half  of  it  left  pro 
truding. 

Little  of  special  interest  occurred  on  this  march  until 
we  reached  the  Potomac,  a  short  distance  above  Harper's 
Ferry.  Here  we  were  shown  the  little  round  house  where 
John  Brown  concealed  his  guns  and  "  pikes"  prior  to  his 
famous  raid  three  years  before.  This  was  his  rendezvous 
on  the  night  before  his  ill-starred  expedition  descended 
upon  the  State  of  Virginia  and  the  South,  in  an  insane 
effort  to  free  the  slaves.  Our  division  was  headed  by 
the  Fourteenth  Connecticut,  and  as  we  approached  the 
river  opposite  Harper's  Ferry  its  fine  band  struck  up  the 
then  new  and  popular  air,  "  John  Brown's  Body,"  and 
the  whole  division  took  up  the  song,  and  we  forded  the 
6  81 


War  from  the  Inside 

river  singing  it.  Slavery  had  destroyed  the  Kansas  home 
of  old  John  Brown,  had  murdered  his  sons,  and  un 
doubtedly  driven  him  insane,  because  of  his  anti-slavery 
zeal.  The  great  State  of  Virginia — the  "  Mother  of 
Presidents" — had  vindicated  her  loyalty  to  the  "  pecu 
liar  institution,"  and,  let  it  be  added,  her  own  spotless 
chivalry,  by  hanging  this  poor,  crazy  fanatic  for  high 
treason!  Was  there  poetic  justice  in  our  marching  into 
the  territory  where  these  events  transpired  singing: 

"John  Brown's  body  lies  a  mouldering  in  the  grave, 
His  soul  goes  marching  on?" 

This  couplet, 

"  We'll  hang  Jeff  Davis  to  a  sour  apple-tree," 

was  sung  with  peculiar  zest,  though  I  never  quite  under 
stood  what  the  poet  had  against  the  sour  apple-tree. 

We  marched  through  the  quaint  old  town  of  Harper's 
Ferry,  whose  principal  industry  had  been  the  government 
arsenal  for  the  manufacture  of  muskets  and  other  army 
ordnance.  These  buildings  were  now  a  mass  of  ruins,  and 
the  remainder  of  the  town  presented  the  appearance  of  a 
plucked  goose,  as  both  armies  had  successively  captured 
and  occupied  it.  We  went  into  camp  on  a  high  plateau 
back  of  the  village  known  as  Bolivar  Heights.  The 
scenic  situation  at  Harper's  Ferry  is  remarkably  grand. 
The  town  is  situated  on  the  tongue  or  fork  of  land  at  the 
junction  of  the  Potomac  and  Shenandoah  rivers.  From 
the  point  where  the  rivers  join,  the  land  rises  rapidly  until 
the  summit  of  Bolivar  Heights  is  reached,  several  hun 
dred  feet  above  the  town,  from  which  a  view  is  had  of 
one  of  the  most  lovely  valleys  to  be  found  anywhere  in 

82 


Harper's  Ferry 

the  world — the  Shenandoah  Valley.  Across  the  Potomac 
to  the  east  and  facing  Harper's  Ferry  rises  Maryland 
Heights,  a  bluff  probably  a  thousand  feet  high,  while 
across  the  Shenandoah  to  the  right  towers  another  pre 
cipitous  bluff  of  about  equal  height  called  Loudon  Heights. 
Both  of  these  bluffs  commanded  Bolivar  Heights  and  Har 
per's  Ferry. 

It  was  the  sudden  and  unexpected  appearance  of  Stone 
wall  Jackson's  batteries  upon  both  of  these  supposed  in 
accessible  bluffs  that  ten  days  before  had  forced  the  sur 
render  of  the  garrison  of  ten  thousand  Union  troops  which 
had  been  posted  here  to  hold  Harper's  Ferry.  It  was  said 
that  the  rain  of  shot  and  shell  from  those  bluffs  down 
upon  our  forces  was  simply  merciless,  and  Jackson  had 
cut  off  all  avenues  of  escape  before  opening  his  batteries. 
The  cavalry,  I  believe,  cut  their  way  out,  but  the  infantry, 
after  twenty-four  hours  of  that  storm  of  shot  and  shell, 
were  forced  to  hoist  the  white  flag.  How  they  could  have 
lived  half  that  time  in  such  a  hell  of  fire  is  a  marvel. 
Everything  above  ground  bore  evidence  of  this  fire. 
There  were  unexploded  shells  lying  about  in  great  num 
bers. 

An  incident  that  might  have  been  anything  but  funny 
occurred  the  day  after  we  encamped  here.  A  new  regi 
ment  joined  the  army  and  marched  past  our  division  to  a 
point  farther  up  the  heights  and  went  into  camp.  They 
were  a  fine-looking  regiment,  full  in  numbers,  and  with 
new,  clean  uniforms.  Their  reception  at  the  hands  of  the 
"  vets"  was  very  like  our  own  three  weeks  before.  Our 
boys,  however,  were  "  vets"  now,  and  joined  in  the  "  re 
ception"  with  a  zest  quite  usual  under  such  circumstances. 

83 


War  from  the  Inside 

However,  the  "  tenderfeet"  incident  had  passed,  and  we 
were  preparing  our  evening  meal,  when  bang!  bang! 
bang!  bang!  rang  out  a  half-dozen  shots  in  quick  suc 
cession.  Every  man  jumped  as  though  the  whole  rebel 
army  was  upon  us.  It  was  soon  discovered  that  the  explo 
sions  came  from  the  camp  of  the  "  tenderfeet."  Some  of 
those  greenhorns  had  gathered  a  number  of  those  unex- 
ploded  shells,  set  them  up  on  end  for  a  fireplace,  and  were 
quietly  boiling  their  coffee  over  them  when  they,  of 
course,  exploded.  Why  none  of  them  were  seriously 
injured  was  a  miracle.  At  the  moment  of  explosion  no 
one  happened  to  be  very  near  the  fire.  A  moment  before 
a  dozen  men  had  been  standing  over  it.  Does  Providence 
graciously  look  out  for  the  tenderfoot?  Some  of  them, 
I  fear,  were  made  to  feel  that  they  would  rather  be  dead 
than  take  the  guying  they  got  for  this  evidence  of  their 
verdancy. 

Camp  life  at  Bolivar  Heights  soon  resolved  itself  into 
the  usual  routine  of  drill  and  picket  duty.  How  many 
corps  of  the  army  were  encamped  here  I  did  not  know, 
but  we  were  a  vast  city  of  soldiers,  and  there  was  no  end 
of  matters  to  occupy  attention  when  off  duty.  These  in 
cluded  bathing  expeditions  to  the  Shenandoah,  a  mile  and 
a  half  away;  the  "  doing"  of  the  quaint  old  town  of 
Harper's  Ferry,  and  rambles  up  Maryland  and  Loudon 
Heights,  both  of  which  were  now  occupied  by  our  troops. 
This  was  our  first  experience  in  a  large  encampment  in 
the  field.  One  feature  of  it  was  exceedingly  beautiful, 
and  that  was  its  system  of  "  calls."  The  cavalry  and 
artillery  were  encamped  on  one  side  of  us.  Each 
battery  of  artillery  and  battalion  of  cavalry  had  its 

84 


Harper's  Ferry 

corps  of  "  trumpeters"  or  "  buglers/'  while  the  infan 
try  regiments  had  their  drum  corps,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  sound  the  various  "  camp  calls."  The  prin 
cipal  calls  were  "  reveille,"  the  getting  up  or  morn 
ing  roll-call,  at  sunrise  usually;  the  guard  mount,  the 
drill,  the  meal  calls,  the  "retreat"  (evening  roll-call), 
and  the  "  taps,"  the  "  turning  in"  or  "  lights  out"  call. 
The  reveille,  the  retreat,  and  taps  were  required  to  be 
sounded  by  each  battery,  troop,  arid  regiment  in  consecu 
tive  order,  commencing  at  the  extreme  right.  The  firing 
of  the  morning  gun  was  the  signal  for  the  first  corps  of 
cavalry  buglers  to  begin  the  reveille,  then  in  succession  it 
was  repeated  first  through  the  bugler  corps  and  then  by 
the  drum  corps  back  and  forth  through  the  lines  until  it 
had  gone  through  the  whole  army.  As  a  martial  and 
musical  feature  it  was  exceedingly  beautiful  and  inspiring. 
But  as  its  purpose  was  to  hustle  out  sleepy  men  to  roll- 
call,  it  is  doubtful  if  these  features  were  fully  appreciated ; 
that  its  advent  was  an  occasion  for  imprecation  rather 
than  appreciation  the  fo  lowing  story  may  illustrate. 

A  group  of  "  vets"  were  discussing  what  they  would  do 
when  they  got  home  from  the  war.  Several  plans  had 
been  suggested — the  taking  into  permanent  camp  of  the 
soldier's  sweetheart  being  the  chief  goal,  of  course.  When 
Pat's  turn  came  to  tell  what  he  was  going  to  do,  he  said : 

"  I'll  be  takin'  me  girl  and  settling  down  wid  her 
housekeeping  and  thin  i'll  be  hirin'  of  a  dhrum  corps  to 
come  an'  play  the  ravalye  iviry  mornin'  under  me  chamber 
windi." 

"  What  will  you  do  that  for  ?  Haven't  you  had  enough 
of  the  reveille  here?" 

8s 


War  from  the  Inside 

"  I'll  just  h'ist  me  windi,  an'  I'll  yell,  '  To  h— 1  wid  yer 
ravalye ;  I'll  slape  as  long  as  I  plase.'  " 

Many  of  these  "  calls"  were  parodied  by  the  men.  Here 
is  the  reveille: 

I  can't  get  'em  up,  I  can't  get  'em  up, 

I  can't  get  'em  up  at  all,  sir  ; 

I  can't  get  'em  up,  I  can't  get  'em  up, 

I  can't  get  'em  up  at  all. 

I'll  go  and  tell  the  captain, 

I'll  go  and  tell  the  captain, 

I'll  go  and  tell  the  captain, 

I  can't  get  'em  up  at  all. 

This  is  the  sick  call : 

Get  your  quinine,  get  your  quinine, 
And  a  blue  pill  too,  and  a  blue  pill  too. 
Get  your  quinine. 

And  so  on  down  the  list.  The  retreat  call  at  sundown 
was  really  enjoyed  and  was  made  more  of.  The  day's 
work  was  then  over,  and  each  corps  elaborated  its  music, 
the  bands  frequently  extending  it  into  an  evening  con 
cert. 

The  almost  universal  time-killer  was  cards.  Of  course 
various  games  were  played,  but  "  poker"  was  king.  A 
game  of  the  latter  could  be  found  in  almost  every  com 
pany  street,  officers  as  well  as  men  took  a  "  twist  at  the 
tiger."  At  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville  I  saw  a  game  in 
full  blast  right  under  fire  of  the  rebel  shells.  Every 
screeching  shell  was  greeted  with  an  imprecation,  while 
the  game  went  on  just  the  same. 

After  our  return  home  I  was  told  of  one  man  who  made 


Harper's  Ferry 

enough  money  at  cards  to  successfully  start  himself  in 
business.  It  was  said  he  performed  picket  duty  by  hired 
proxies  during  the  following  winter  in  camp  at  Falmouth, 
and  gave  his  time  wholly  to  the  game.  A  New  York  City 
regiment  lay  adjoining  our  camp  that  winter,  and  a  truer 
lot  of  sports,  from  colonel  down,  never  entered  the  ser 
vice.  These  men,  officers  and  all,  were  his  patrons.  They 
came  to  "do  the  Pennsylvania  novice,"  but  were  them 
selves  done  in  the  end. 

On  the  3d  of  October  our  brigade  made  what  was 
termed  a  reconnoissance  in  force  out  through  Loudon 
County,  Virginia,  to  Leesburg.  It  was  reported  that 
Jeb.  Stuart  was  there  with  a  force  of  cavalry  and  infan 
try.  General  Kimball  was  sent  with  our  brigade  to  cap 
ture  him  if  possible.  Our  orders  on  the  evening  of 
October  2  were  to  report  at  brigade  head-quarters  at 
seven  o'clock  A.M.,  with  three  days'  rations  and  sixty 
rounds  of  ammunition.  This  meant  "  business,"  and  was 
a  welcome  change  from  the  monotony  of  camp  life.  A 
regiment  of  cavalry  and  two  batteries  of  artillery  had 
been  added  to  our  brigade  for  this  expedition.  The 
morning  dawned  bright  and  beautiful,  but  the  day  proved 
a  very  hot  one,  and  the  first  three  or  four  miles  of  our 
march  was  around  the  base  of  Loudon  Heights,  close 
under  the  mountain  over  a  very  rocky  road,  and  where 
there  was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring.  We  were  delayed 
by  the  artillery  in  getting  over  this  portion  of  the  route, 
and  then  we  were  marched  almost  on  the  run  to  make  up 
for  the  lost  time.  General  Kimball  had  gone  forward  with 
the  cavalry,  leaving  his  adjutant-general  to  bring  up  the 
balance  of  the  column  as  rapidly  as  possible.  In  his 

87 


War  from  the  Inside 

efforts  to  hurry  the  men  forward  the  latter  overdid  the 
matter.  The  result  was  the  men  dropped  in  scores  ut 
terly  exhausted,  so  that  within  three  hours  our  number 
had  been  reduced  more  than  half,  and  at  the  end  of  the 
march  in  the  evening  there  were  just  twenty-five  officers 
and  men  of  our  regiment  present  for  duty,  and  of  the 
whole  infantry  force,  three  thousand  strong  at  the  start, 
there  were  less  than  two  hundred  present  at  the  finish. 
This  was  due  to  an  utter  lack  of  judgment  in  marching. 

The  distance  covered  had  been  twenty-three  miles.  The 
day  had  been  hot,  the  road  rough,  and  the  men,  in  heavy 
marching  order  with  three  days'  rations  and  sixty  rounds 
of  ammunition,  had  carried  upwards  of  ninety  pounds 
each.  With  such  a  load  and  under  such  conditions,  to 
expect  men  to  march  any  distance  at  the  hurried  pace 
required  was  criminal  folly.  It  bore  its  natural  fruit. 
Our  men  were  scattered  on  the  route  from  Harper's  Ferry 
to  Leesburg,  a  demoralized  lot  of  stragglers.  My  diary 
mentions  this  experience  with  much  indignation  and  at 
tributes  the  folly  to  the  effects  of  whiskey.  Of  course, 
this  was  only  a  surmise. 

General  Kimball  was  not  directly  responsible  for  it.  In 
his  anxiety  to  capture  Jeb.  Stuart  he  had  pushed  ahead 
with  the  cavalry,  and  knew  nothing  of  our  condition  until 
the  forlorn  party  came  straggling  into  his  bivouac  in  the 
evening.  He  was  very  indignant,  and  said  some  words 
that  cannot  be  recorded  here.  He  was  chagrined  to  find 
Stuart  gone,  but  now  was  greatly  relieved  that  such  was 
the  fact.  Otherwise,  said  he,  we  would  have  stood  an 
excellent  chance  for  a  journey  south  under  rebel  escort. 

On  our  way  out  we  passed  through  several  small  vil- 


Harper's  Ferry 

lages,  in  none  of  which  did  we  find  evidence  of  decided 
Union  sentiment,  except  in  Waterford.  This  was  a  pros 
perous-looking  town,  and  the  people  seemed  hospitable, 
and  manifested  their  Union  sentiments  by  furnishing  us 
fruit  and  water  freely.  Our  cavalry  caught  four  of  Stuart's 
men  in  a  picture-gallery  and  marched  them  to  the  rear.  I 
had  the  good  fortune  to  secure  a  loaf  of  nice  bread  and 
a  canteen  of  sweet  milk.  If  any  one  wishes  to  know  how 
good  bread  and  milk  is,  let  him  step  into  my  shoes  on  that 
weary  night. 

Conditions  compelled  us  to  remain  at  Leesburg  that 
night.  We  rested  on  our  arms,  fearing  Stuart  might  get 
an  inkling  of  our  plight  and  pounce  upon  us.  My  diary 
says  I  was  unable  to  sleep  because  of  suffering  from  a 
sprained  knee  and  ankle,  caused  by  my  horse  stumbling 
and  falling  on  me  just  at  dusk. 

The  next  morning  we  were  off  bright  and  early  on  the 
back  track  for  camp,  but  by  another  route,  so  as  to  avoid 
being  cut  off  by  Stuart.  We  had  started  out  bravely  to 
capture  this  wily  rebel.  Now  we  were  in  mortal  danger 
of  being  captured  by  him.  A  detail  was  made  to  go  back 
over  the  route  we  came  and  gather  up  the  stragglers. 
On  our  way  back  I  was  refused  a  canteen  of  water  by 
the  "  Missus"  of  one  of  the  plantation  dwellings;  but  on 
riding  around  to  the  rear,  where  the  slaves  lived,  old 
"  Aunt  Lucy"  supplied  us  freely  with  both  milk  and 
water.  This  was  a  sample  of  the  difference  between  the 
aristocrat  in  the  mansion  and  the  slave  in  the  hovel.  The 
latter  were  always  very  friendly  and  ready  to  help  us 
in  every  possible  way,  while  as  a  rule  we  met  with  rebuff 
at  the  hands  of  the  former. 

89 


War  from  the  Inside 

Here  we  came  in  contact  for  the  first  time  with  planta 
tion  life  under  the  institution  of  slavery.  The  main  or 
plantation  house  was  usually  situated  a  quarter-mile  or 
more  back  from  the  "  pike."  They  were  generally  low, 
flat,  one-story  mansions,  built  of  stone,  while  further  to 
the  rear,  in  the  form  of  a  square,  were  the  wooden  cabins 
of  the  slaves,  each  plantation  a  village  by  itself.  We 
marched  only  about  eight  miles  this  day,  and  bivouacked 
near  the  village  of  Hillsboro.  This  evening  we  officers 
of  the  field  and  staff  caught  on  to  a  great  treat  in  the 
way  of  stewed  chicken  and  corn  cake  for  supper  at  a 
Union  farmhouse,  and  thought  ourselves  very  fortunate 
to  be  able  to  engage  a  breakfast  at  the  same  place  for  next 
morning.  Alas  for  the  uncertainties  of  war!  We  had 
barely  rolled  ourselves  in  our  blankets  for  the  night  when 
a  staff  officer  from  General  Kimball's  head-quarters  came 
and  in  a  low  tone  of  voice  ordered  us  to  arouse  our  men 
without  the  least  noise  and  be  off  as  quietly  as  possible; 
that  scouts  had  reported  that  Stuart  was  after  us  in  hot 
haste.  We  were  off  almost  in  a  jiffy.  The  night  was  cool 
and  foggy.  The  former  favored  our  rapid  march,  and 
the  latter  hid  us  from  the  enemy,  who  succeeded  in  cap 
turing  only  a  couple  of.  men  who  fell  out. 

We  reached  camp  at  Harper's  Ferry  shortly  after  sun 
rise,  a  thoroughly  tired  and  battered  crowd.  The  expedi 
tion  proved  absolutely  fruitless,  and  had  barely  escaped 
being  captured,  owing  to  mismanagement.  It  was  the 
most  trying  bit  of  service  of  our  whole  experience.  Some 
of  our  men  never  recovered  from  the  exhaustion  of  that 
first  day's  march,  and  had  to  be  discharged  as  permanently 
disabled. 

90 


Harper's  Ferry 

Shortly  after  this  another  expedition  relieved  the  mo 
notony  of  camp  life.  General  Hancock,  commanding  the 
Second  Division  of  our  corps,  had  been  sent  to  make  a 
reconnoissance  in  force  towards  Halltown,  six  to  efght 
miles  up  the  Shenandoah  Valley.  He  had  gone  in  the 
morning,  and  shortly  after  noon  we  had  heard  cannon 
ading  in  that  direction,  showing  that  he  had  found  "  busi 
ness."  It  was  Hancock's  reputation  to  make  "  business/' 
if  the  "  Johnnies"  could  be  induced  to  tarry  long  enough 
for  him  to  reach  them.  However,  the  firing  shortly 
ceased,  and  the  night  set  in  with  a  terrific  rain-storm. 
I  remember,  as  I  rolled  myself  in  my  blanket  pre 
pared  for  a  good  sleep  in  defiance  of  the  rain,  sym 
pathizing  with  those  poor  fellows  out  on  that  recon 
noissance  in  all  this  storm.  My  sympathy  was  premature. 
Just  then  I  heard  an  ominous  scratch  on  my  tent,  and 
the  hand  of  an  orderly  was  thrust  through  the  flaps 
with  an  order.  In  much  trepidation  I  struck  a  light. 
Sure  I  was  of  trouble,  or  an  order  would  not  have  been 
sent  out  at  such  a  time.  My  fears  were  realized.  It 
directed  our  regiment  to  report  at  brigade  head-quarters 
in  heavy  marching  order  with  all  possible  despatch.  Here 
was  a  "  state  of  things."  Was  it  ever  so  dark,  and  did 
it  ever  rain  harder?  Not  in  my  recollection.  But  that 
order  left  no  time  for  cogitations.  Into  boots,  clothing, 
and  gum  blanket,  out  to  the  colonel's  tent  with  the  order, 
then  with  his  orders  to  all  the  companies,  the  sounding  of 
the  long  roll,  the  forming  line,  and  away  to  brigade  head 
quarters  in  that  inky  blackness  and  drenching  rain  was 
the  work  of  less  than  fifteen  minutes.  General  Kimball 
complimented  us  as  being  the  first  regiment  to  report,  and 

91 


War  from  the  Inside 

we  were  honored  with  the  head  of  the  column  which  was 
to  support  Hancock  at  Halltown.  French's  division  had 
been  ordered  out  as  supports,  and  Kimball's  brigade  had 
the  advance. 

We  marched  rapidly  up  the  valley  of  the  Shenandoah, 
now  as  black  as  Erebus.  But  soon  the  rain  ceased,  the 
clouds  broke  away,  and  the  stars  appeared,  completely 
transforming  the  scene,  and  except  for  the  mud  and  our 
wet  and  uncomfortable  condition  it  would  have  been  an 
enjoyable  march.  After  going  about  six  miles  we  were 
directed  into  a  woods  to  rest  until  morning.  Inside  the 
woods  it  was  inky  dark  again,  and  we  made  headway 
with  much  difficulty.  Men  and  horses  stumbled  and 
floundered  over  fallen  logs  and  through  brush  at  immi 
nent  peril  of  limbs,  until  a  halt  was  made,  and  after  details 
for  picket  had  been  sent  out  we  were  allowed  to  rest  until 
daylight. 

It  was  now  about  three  o'clock.  But  to  rest,  soaking 
wet,  almost  covered  with  mud,  in  a  woods  that  had  been 
so  drenched  with  rain  that  everything  was  like  a  soaked 
sponge,  that  was  the  problem.  No  fires  were  allowed,  for 
no  one  knew  how  near  the  enemy  might  be.  However, 
the  men  were  tired  enough  to  sleep,  most  of  them,  even 
under  those  conditions.  I  well  remember  the  weary  walk 
ing  and  stamping  to  keep  warm  until  the  sunshine  came 
to  our  relief.  But  daylight  revealed  a  condition  of  things 
relative  to  our  position  that,  had  the  enemy  known,  we 
might  again  have  been  made  an  easy  prey.  Our  details 
for  water,  after  going  out  some  distance,  as  they  sup 
posed  in  our  rear,  suddenly  found  themselves  uncom 
fortably  near  the  enemy's  outposts,  and  hurried  back  to 

92 


Harper's  Ferry 

camp  with  the  information.  It  was  found  that  in  the 
darkness  our  picket  line  had  actually  gotten  turned 
around,  so  that  our  rear  had  been  carefully  guarded, 
whilst  our  front  was  left  wholly  exposed.  The  denseness 
of  the  woods  and  the  darkness  of  the  night  had  been  our 
salvation.  We  shortly  learned  that  Hancock  had  accom 
plished  his  purpose  and  was  moving  back  to  Harper's 
Ferry.  We  followed  leisurely,  reaching  the  camp  about 
noon,  thoroughly  tired  and  bedraggled  from  the  rain  and 
mud. 


CHAPTER   VIII 


FROM    HARPER  S    FERRY   TO    FREDERICKSBURG 

WE  remained  on  Bolivar  Heights,  at  Harper's  Ferry, 
without  further  special  incident  until  the  3ist  of  October, 
1862.  In  the  mean  time  Lieutenant-Colonel  Wilcox  had 
been  promoted  to  colonel  to  fill  the  vacancy  caused  by  the 
death  of  Colonel  Oakford  at  Antietam.  Major  Albright 
had  been  promoted  to  lieutenant-colonel  and  the  senior 
captain,  Shreve,  Company  A,  had  been  made  major. 
Colonel  Wilcox  was  on  his  back  with  a  severe  case  of 
typhoid  fever,  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Albright  had  been 
some  ten  days  absent  on  sick  leave,  during  which  time 
Major  Shreve  had  been  in  command.  Lieutenant-Colo 
nel  Albright,  hearing  of  the  probable  movement  of  the 
army,  rejoined  us  in  time  to  take  command  as  we  bade 
farewell  to  Harper's  Ferry.  To  show  how  little  a  soldier 
can  know  of  what  is  before  him,  I  note  the  fact  that  we 
had  just  completed  fixing  up  our  quarters  for  cold  weather 
at  Camp  Bolivar.  This  involved  considerable  labor  and 
some  expense.  My  diary  records  the  fact  that  I  had 
put  up  a  "  California  stove"  in  my  tent.  This,  if  I  re 
member  rightly,  was  a  cone-shaped  sheet-iron  affair, 
which  had  a  small  sliding  door  and  sat  on  the  ground, 
with  a  small  pipe  extending  through  the  canvas  roof 
just  under  the  ridge-pole  to  the  rear.  It  cost,  I  think, 

94 


From  Harper's  Ferry  to  Fredericksburg 

about  four  dollars,  and  required  some  skill  in  "  setting 
up/'  chiefly  in  fixing  the  pipe  so  that  it  would  not  tumble 
about  one's  ears  with  every  blast  of  wind  that  shook  the 
tent,  and  in  windy  weather  would  at  least  carry  some  of 
the  smoke  outside.  A  special  course  of  engineering  was 
almost  needed  to  be  able  to  properly  handle  those  stoves. 
A  little  too  much  fire,  and  you  had  to  adopt  Pat's  remedy 
when  Biddy's  temper  got  up — sit  on  the  outside  until  it 
cooled  down.  Too  little  was  worse  than  none,  for  your 
tent  became  a  smoke-house.  On  the  whole,  they  were 
much  like  the  goose  the  aforesaid  Pat  captured  and 
brought  into  camp,  "  a  mighty  unconvanient  burr'd,  a 
little  too  big  for  one  and  not  big  enough  for  two." 

This  fixing  up  of  quarters  had  been  done  in  contempla 
tion  of  remaining  here  through  the  winter,  and  we  had 
taken  our  cue  from  like  actions  of  our  brigade  officers, 
who  were  supposed  to  know  something  about  the  move 
ments  of  the  army.  When  we  got  orders  on  the  29th  of 
October  to  prepare  for  the  march,  I  was  assured  by  the 
adjutant-general  of  our  brigade  that  it  was  nothing  more 
than  a  day's  reconnoissance,  and  that  we  were  certainly 
not  going  to  move  our  quarters.  He  knew  as  much  about 
it  as  I  did.  Within  an  hour  after  this  order  another  came 
directing  us  to  move  in  heavy  marching  order,  with  three 
days'  rations  and  sixty  rounds  of  ammunition.  And  so 
we  moved  out  of  Harper's  Ferry  on  the  3ist  of  October, 
leaving  our  fixed-up  quarters,  with  my  four-dollar  stove, 
to  Geary's  division,  which  succeeded  to  our  camp. 

We  crossed  the  Shenandoah  on  a  pontoon  bridge  and 
skirted  the  mountain  under  Loudon  Heights  over  the  same 
route  south  that  we  had  taken  on  our  way  in  from  the 

95 


War  from  the  Inside 

Leesburg  raid.  We  marched  very  leisurely,  making  dur 
ing  the  first  four  days  only  about  twenty-five  miles,  to  a 
village  bearing  the  serious  (?)  name  of  Snickersville. 
Here  we  had  the  first  evidence  of  the  presence  of  the 
enemy.  We  were  hurried  through  this  village  and  up 
through  the  gap  in  the  mountain  called  "  Snicker's  Gap" 
to  head  off  the  rebels.  We  soon  came  on  to  their  scouts 
and  pickets,  who  fled  precipitately  without  firing  a  gun. 
Part  of  our  division  halted  on  the  top  of  the  gap,  while  a 
couple  of  regiments  skirmished  through  the  woods  both 
sides  of  the  road  down  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  on  the 
other  side.  The  enemy  had  taken  "  French  leave,"  and 
so  our  men  returned  and  our  division  bivouacked  here  for 
the  night. 

We  now  learned  that  these  giant  armies  were  moving 
south  in  parallel  columns,  the  mountain  separating  them. 
At  every  gap  or  pass  in  the  mountain  a  bristling  head 
or  a  clinched  fist,  so  to  speak,  of  one  would  be  thrust 
through  and  the  other  would  try  to  hit  it.  This  was 
our  mission,  as  we  double-quicked  it  through  this  gap. 
When  we  got  there  the  "  fist"  had  been  withdrawn, 
and  our  work  for  the  time  was  over.  But  our  bivouac 
here — how  beautiful  it  was!  The  fields  were  clean  and 
green,  with  plenty  of  shade,  for  right  in  the  gap  were 
some  good  farms.  Then  the  cavalry  had  not  cleaned 
the  country  of  everything  eatable,  as  was  usual,  they  being 
always  in  the  advance.  There  was  milk  and  bread  to  be 
had,  and  somehow — I  never  dared  to  inquire  too  closely 
about  it — some  good  mutton  came  into  camp  that  night, 
so  that  we  had  a  splendid  breakfast  next  morning.  Some 
fine  honey  was  added  to  the  bill  of  fare.  The  man  who 


From  Harper's  Ferry  to  Fredericksburg 

brought  in  the  latter  claimed  that  a  rebel  hive  of  bees 
attacked  him  whilst  on  picket  duty,  and  he  confiscated 
the  honey  as  a  measure  of  retaliation. 

But  the  special  feature  that  makes  that  camp  linger  in 
my  memory  was  the  extraordinary  beauty  of  the  scene 
in  the  valley  below  us  when  the  evening-  camp-fires  were 
lighted.  We  were  on  a  sort  of  table-land  two  or  three 
hundred  feet  above  the  broad  valley,  which  widened  out 
at  this  point  and  made  a  most  charming  landscape.  As 
the  darkness  drew  on  the  camp-fires  were  lighted,  and  the 
scene  became  one  of  weird,  bewitching  beauty.  Almost 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  covering  three  and  possibly 
four  square  miles,  were  spread  out  the  blazing  camp-fires 
of  that  mighty  host  of  our  "  Boys  in  Blue."  No  drums 
were  beaten  and  the  usual  retreat  call  was  not  sounded, 
but  the  thousands  of  camp-fires  told  of  the  presence  of 
our  men.  A  martial  city  was  cooking  its  evening  coffee 
and  resting  its  weary  limbs  in  the  genial  camp-fire  glow, 
whilst  weary  hearts  were  refreshed  with  the  accompany 
ing  chat  about  friends  and  dearer  ones  at  home.  The 
scouting  "  Johnny  Rebs"  (and  there  were  no  doubt  plenty 
of  them  viewing  the  scene)  could  have  gotten  from  it  no 
comforting  information  to  impart  as  to  our  numbers. 
Most  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  now  largely  aug 
mented  by  new  regiments,  was  there,  probably  not  less 
than  one  hundred  thousand  men.  It  was  a  picture  not  of 
a  lifetime,  but  of  the  centuries.  It  made  my  blood  leap 
as  I  realized  that  I  was  looking  down  upon  the  grandest 
army,  all  things  considered,  of  any  age  or  time.  Its  mis 
sion  was  to  save  to  liberty  and  freedom  the  life  of  the 
best  government  the  world  ever  saw.  In  its  ranks  was 
7  97 


War  from  the  Inside 

the  best  blood  of  a  free  people.  In  intelligence  it  was  far 
superior  to  any  other  army  that  ever  existed.  Scholars 
of  all  professions,  tradesmen  and  farmers,  were  there, 
fighting  side  by  side,  animated  by  the  same  patriotic  im 
pulse.  I  said  to  myself,  it  is  impossible  that  that  army 
should  be  beaten.  It  is  the  strong  right  arm  of  the  Union, 
and  under  God  it  shall  assuredly  deal  the  death-blow  to 
the  rebellion.  This  it  certainly  did,  though  at  a  fearful 
cost,  for  it  was  fighting  the  same  blood.  The  inspiration 
of  that  scene  made  me  glad  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart 
that  I  had  the  privilege  of  being  just  one  in  that  glorious 
army.  After  forty  years,  what  would  I  take  for  that 
association  with  all  its  dangers  and  hardships  ?  What  for 
these  pictures  and  memories  ?  They  are  simply  priceless. 
I  only  wish  I  could  so  paint  the  pictures  and  reproduce 
the  scenes  that  they  might  be  an  inspiration  to  the  same 
patriotism  that  moved  this  mighty  host. 

One  of  our  grizzly-headed  "  boys,"  after  forty  years, 
tells  the  following  story  of  his  experiences  on  a  foraging 
expedition  from  the  camp.  Three  of  them  started  out 
after  beef.  Some  young  steers  had  been  seen  in  the  dis 
tance.  They  reached  the  field,  a  mile  or  more  from 
camp.  They  found  the  game  a  mighty  vigorous  lot  of 
young  steers,  and  their  troubles  began  when  they  tried  to 
corral  any  one  of  them.  Both  ends  seemed  to  be  in  busi 
ness  at  the  same  time,  whilst  a  tail-hold  proved  to  have 
more  transportation  possibilities  than  they  had  ever 
dreamed  of.  Coaxing  and  persuasion  proved  utter  fail 
ures,  for  the  bovines  seemed  to  have  the  same  prejudices 
against  our  blue  uniforms  their  owners  had,  and  it  would 
not  do  to  fire  a  gun.  However,  after  two  hours  of  the 


From  Harper's  Ferry  to  Fredericksburg 

hardest  exercise  they  ever  had,  they  succeeded  in  "  pinch 
ing"  their  steer  with  nose,  horn,  and  tail-holds.  Neither 
of  them  had  ever  undertaken  to  butcher  a  beef  before,  and 
a  good-sized  jackknife  was  all  they  had  to  work  with. 
But  beef  they  came  for  and  must  have,  and  one  was 
selected  to  do  the  trick.  Here  again  they  counted  without 
their  quarry.  The  latter  evidently  objected  to  being  prac 
tised  on  by  novices,  for  as  the  knife  entered  his  neck  he 
gave  a  jump  which  somehow  nearly  severed  the  would-be 
butcher's  thumb.  Nevertheless,  he  completed  his  work 
without  a  word,  and  the  animal  was  skinned  and  divided. 
Just  as  they  had  him  down  a  field  officer  rode  almost  on 
to  them.  They  felt  sure  that  their  "  fat  was  in  the  fire," 
for  the  officer — probably  the  field  officer  of  the  day — 
certainly  saw  them  and  saw  what  they  were  doing.  But 
he  turned  and  rode  away  without  saying  a  word.  It  was 
evidently  one  of  those  things  he  did  not  want  to  see.  Well, 
the  fun  was  not  yet  over.  They  backed  their  beef  to  camp, 
and  this  was  about  as  uncomfortable  a  job  as  they  ever 
had.  No  more  tired  trio  ever  rolled  themselves  in 
blankets  than  they  were  that  night.  But  there  was  com 
pensation.  They  had  an  abundant  supply  of  "  fresh"  on 
hand  and  their  sleep  was  sweet.  Alas  for  the  uncer 
tainties  of  camp  life.  Notwithstanding  they  took  the 
extra  precaution  to  roll  their  several  portions  in  their 
coats  and  placed  them  under  their  heads  for  pillows,  some 
"  sons  of  Belial"  from  an  adjacent  regiment  who  had  dis 
covered  them  bringing  their  "  game"  into  camp  actually 
stole  every  ounce  of  the  beef  out  from  under  their  too 
soundly  sleeping  heads  during  the  night  and  made  off 
with  it.  After  all  their  labor  and  trouble  neither  of  them 

99 


War  from  the  Inside 

had  a  taste  of  that  beef.  Their  nostrils  were  regaled 
with  the  savory  fumes  of  the  cooking  meat.  They  had 
no  difficulty  in  discovering  where  it  was.  Indeed,  the 
whelps  who  stole  it  rather  paraded  their  steal,  knowing 
that  the  mouths  of  our  men  were  sealed.  They  simply 
could  not  say  a  word,  for  marauding  was  punishable  with 
death.  The  worst  of  the  escapade  was  that  the  poor 
fellow  whose  thumb  had  been  so  nearly  severed  was  made 
a  cripple  for  life.  He  was  never  able  to  do  another  day's 
duty,  and  to  shield  him  the  other  two — be  it  said  to  their 
everlasting  honor — performed  his  picket  duty  in  addition 
to  their  own  until  he  was  discharged. 

My  diary  notes  the  fact  that  Fitz-John  Porter's  corps 
passed  us  just  before  night,  and  I  saw  its  commander  for 
the  first  time.  He  was  a  small,  slender,  young-looking 
man,  with  full  black  whiskers  and  keen  black  eyes.  He 
was  dressed  very  modestly  and  wore  the  usual  high  black 
slouch  hat,  with  a  much  battered  gold-tassel  band.  A  pair 
of  silver  stars  on  his  shoulder,  much  obscured  by  wear 
and  dust,  indicated  his  rank  of  major-general. 

The  next  day,  November  3,  was  cold  and  chilly  and  we 
were  early  on  the  march,  still  southward.  We  had  now 
exhausted  our  supply  of  rations,  and  at  a  temporary  halt 
wagon-loads  of  hardtack  and  pork  were  driven  along  our 
company  lines  and  boxes  of  the  bread  and  barrels  of  pork 
dumped  out,  and  the  men  told  to  fill  their  haversacks. 
Barrel  heads  and  boxes  were  soon  smashed  with  the  butts 
of  guns  and  contents  appropriated,  each  man  taking 
all  he  would.  Many  a  fine  piece  of  the  pork  marched 
away  on  a  bayonet,  ready  for  the  noon-day  meal.  I 
filled  my  own  saddle-bags,  as  did  the  rest  of  us  officers, 

100 


From  Harper's  Ferry  to  Fredericksburg 

preferring   to    take    no    further    chances    on    the    grub 
question. 

We  bivouacked  about  four  o'clock,  after  a  thirteen-mile 
march  in  a  raw  and  very  chilly  air.  Just  going  into  biv 
ouac  I  saw  Major-General  John  F.  Reynolds,  who  met 
such  a  tragic  death  at  Gettysburg  the  next  July.  His 
corps — the  First — was  in  the  advance  of  ours.  Our  regi 
ment  was  marching  at  the  head  of  our  brigade  column. 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Albright  was  temporarily  absent  and 
I  was  directing  the  column.  General  Reynolds's  corps 
had  passed  into  the  field  to  the  left  and  were  already  in 
bivouac;  the  other  troops  of  our  division  were  not 
visible  at  this  point,  and  I  was  hesitating  what  direction 
to  give  the  column.  General  Reynolds  was  sitting  on  his 
horse  looking  at  us,  evidently  with  much  interest,  and 
noticing  my  dilemma,  rode  up  to  my  assistance  at  once. 
Addressing  me  as  adjutant,  he  said :  "  Part  of  your  corps 
has  moved  in  yonder,"  pointing  out  the  place.  "  If  I 
were  you  I  would  go  in  here  and  occupy  this  field  to  the 
right  in  column  of  divisions,  and  you  may  say  General 
Reynolds  advised  this,  if  you  please."  His  manner  and 
way  of  doing  this  little  service  were  so  pleasant  that  he 
captured  me  at  once.  Had  he  chosen  to  do  so,  he  could 
have  given  me  orders,  as  the  senior  officer  present,  but 
with  a  gentle  courtesy  he  accomplished  his  purpose  with 
out  that,  and  to  reassure  me  gave  his  name  and  rank  in 
this  delicate  way.  I  shall  never  forget  his  pleasant  smile 
as  he  returned  my  salute  after  thanking  him  for  his  sug 
gestion.  He  was  a  superb-looking  man,  dark  complex- 
ioned,  wearing  full  black  whiskers,  and  sat  his  fine  horse 
like  a  Centaur,  tall,  straight,  and  graceful,  the  ideal  sol- 

101 


War  from  the  Inside 

dier.  I  do  not  remember  to  have  ever  seen  this  remark 
able  officer  again.  He  was  one  of  the  few  great  com 
manders  developed  by  the  war.  A  quiet,  modest  man, 
he  yet  possessed  a  very  decisive  element  of  character,  as 
illustrated  by  the  following  incident  related  to  me  by  my 
friend  Colonel  W.  L.  Wilson,  assistant  adjutant-general 
of  one  of  the  divisions  of  Reynolds's  corps,  and  shows  his 
unwearied  vigilance  and  his  indefatigable  capacity  for 
work.  The  corps  was  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy,  an 
attack  was  deemed  highly  probable.  Night  had  brought 
on  a  storm  of  rain  and  intense  darkness.  General  Reyn 
olds  had  given  the  proper  officers  very  explicit  instruc*- 
tions  about  locating  his  picket  lines,  and  Colonel  Wilson, 
knowing  the  critical  nature  of  the  work  and  his  division 
chief's  anxiety  over  it,  about  midnight  went  out  over 
their  part  of  the  line  to  make  doubly  sure  that  everything 
was  right.  Among  the  first  persons  he  encountered  after 
reaching  the  outposts  was  General  Reynolds,  all  alone, 
making  his  way  over  the  line  in  that  drenching  rain, 
to  be  assured  that  the  pickets  were  properly  posted  and 
doing  their  duty.  Here  is  Colonel  Wilson's  account  of 
the  colloquy  that  ensued :  "  Who  are  you,  sir  ?  Where 
do  you  belong?  What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  vol 
leyed  at  me  savagely.  Being  apparently  reassured  by 
my  reply,  he  continued  in  a  less  peremptory  tone,  "  Who 
ordered  that  line?  How  far  out  is  it?"  Receiving 
my  reply,  he  exclaimed,  "  Push  it  out,  push  it  out 
farther!"  "How  far,  General?"  I  ventured  to  ask. 
"Push  it  out  until  you  feel  something!"  This  was 
Reynolds. 

We  continued  our  march  down  what  I  was  told  was 


102 


From  Harper's  Ferry  to  Fredericksburg 

the  valley  of  the  Catochin.  November  5  found  us  near 
Upperville,  where  we  bivouacked  alongside  an  old  grave 
yard,  our  head-quarters  being  established  inside  the  en 
closure,  to  get  the  protection  of  its  stone  wall  from  the 
cold  wind  that  was  blowing.  The  temperature  had  fallen 
during  the  past  twenty-four  hours,  so  that  it  was  now 
decidedly  chilly — good  for  marching,  but  cold  in  bivouac. 
My  notes  say  that  I  was  chilled  through  until  my  teeth 
chattered;  that  I  slept  in  the  hollow  made  by  a  sunken 
grave  to  get  warm;  that  my  dreams  were  not  disturbed 
by  any  unsubstantial  hobgoblins  of  the  defunct  member 
of  an  F.  F.  V.  whose  remains  might  have  been  resting 
below  me.  The  letters  F.  F.  V.  meant  much  in  those  war 
days.  They  stood  for  "  First  Family  of  Virginia,"  an 
expression  much  in  use  by  her  slave-proud  aristocracy, 
and,  of  course,  much  satirized  by  us  of  the  North.  On 
this  day  we  passed  several  very  handsome  mansions  with 
their  slave  contingents.  One  old  "  daddy"  volunteered 
the  information  that  his  "  Mars  was  a  pow'ful  secesh ;" 
that  he  had  three  sons  in  the  rebel  army.  My  diary  notes 
with  indignation  that  these  rich  plantations  were  carefully 
guarded  by  our  cavalry  to  prevent  our  soldiers  entering 
to  get  water  as  they  passed.  They  would  doubtless  have 
helped  themselves  to  other  things  as  well,  especially  things 
eatable,  but  the  owners  were  rebels  and  deserved  to  have 
their  property  taken,  we  all  felt. 

The  orders  against  marauding  were  punctuated  by  a 
striking  example  this  day.  The  cavalry  orderly  of  the 
general  commanding  our  division,  riding  back  to  head 
quarters  after  delivering  a  batch  of  orders,  among  them 
another  on  this  hated  subject,  carried  a  pair  of  handsome 

103 


War  from  the  Inside 

turkeys  strapped  to  his  saddle.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  entire 
flock  came  into  our  camp  that  night,  and  turkey  was 
served  at  breakfast  to  some  of  the  rank  and  file  as  well  as 
to  the  general.  Verily,  "  consistency  thou  art  a  jewel." 

From  Upperville  we  moved  by  easy  marching  down  to 
Warrenton.  The  weather  had  grown  much  colder.  On 
the  8th  of  November  there  was  a  fall  of  rain,  succeeded 
by  snow,  and  we  marched  in  a  very  disagreeable  slush. 
The  bivouac  in  this  snow  was  most  trying.  The  result 
for  myself  was  a  severe  attack  of  fever  and  ague.  I  had 
been  much  reduced  in  flesh  from  the  fatigue  and  nervous 
strain  of  the  strenuous  life  of  the  past  two  months.  This 
attack  prostrated  me  at  once.  I  was  placed  in  an  ambu 
lance,  being  unable  to  ride  my  horse.  The  shaking  and 
jolting  of  that  ambulance  ride  were  something  fearful.  I 
can  now  sympathize  with  the  wounded  who  were  com 
pelled  to  ride  in  those  horrible  vehicles.  They  were  cov 
ered  wagons,  with  seats  on  each  side,  and  made  with 
heavy,  stiff  springs,  so  as  to  stand  the  rough  roads,  which 
were  frequently  cut  through  the  fields.  This  night  Gen 
eral  Kimball  had  me  brought  to  his  head-quarters,  a  brick 
farm-house,  for  shelter.  It  was  a  kindness  I  greatly 
appreciated.  The  next  night  our  chaplain  succeeded  in 
getting  me  into  a  farm-house  some  little  distance  from 
the  regiment.  He  secured  this  accommodation  on  the 
strength  of  Freemasonry.  The  owner's  name  I  have 
preserved  in  my  diary  as  Mr.  D.  L.  F.  Lake.  He  was  one 
of  Mosby's  "  cavalry,"  as  they  called  themselves.  We  in 
our  army  called  them  "  guerillas."  They  were  the  terror 
of  our  army  stragglers.  They  were  "  good  Union  men" 
when  our  army  was  passing,  but  just  as  soon  as  the  army 

104 


From  Harper's  Ferry  to  Fredericksburg 

had  passed  they  were  in  their  saddles,  picking  up  every 
straggler  and  any  who  may  have  had  to  fall  behind  from 
sickness.  In  that  way  they  got  quite  a  few  prisoners. 
This  man  did  not  hesitate  to  tell  us  the  mode  of  their 
operations.  He  said  his  farm  had  been  literally  stripped 
of  hay,  grain,  and  cattle  by  our  cavalry  under  General 
Stoneman.  All  he  had  left  was  one  chicken.  This  his 
wife  cooked  for  the  chaplain  and  me.  He  brought  out 
Richmond  papers  during  the  evening  and  freely  discussed 
the  issues  of  the  war  with  the  chaplain.  I  was  too  ill  to 
pay  much  attention  to  what  was  said,  only  to  gather  that 
his  idea  of  us  Northern  people  was  that  we  were  a  mis 
erable  horde  of  invading  barbarians,  destined  to  be  very 
speedily  beaten  and  driven  out.  He  admitted,  however, 
that  in  financial  transactions  he  preferred  "  greenbacks" 
to  the  Confederate  scrip,  which  I  thought  rather  negatived 
his  boasted  faith  in  the  success  of  the  Confederacy.  His 
wife,  who  had,  not  many  years  gone,  been  young  and 
pretty,  occasionally  chimed  in  with  expressions  of  great 
hate  and  bitterness.  Perhaps  the  latter  was  not  to  be 
wondered  at  from  their  stand-point,  and  they  had  just 
now  ample  grounds  for  their  bitter  feelings  in  the  fact 
that  they  had  just  been  relieved  of  all  their  portable  prop 
erty  by  the  Union  forces.  He  had  receipts  for  what 
Stoneman  had  taken,  which  would  be  good  for  their  mar 
ket  value  on  his  taking  the  oath  of  allegiance.  But  he 
said  he  would  die  rather  than  take  that  oath,  so  he  con 
sidered  his  property  gone.  He  no  doubt  thought  better 
of  this  later  on,  and  probably  got  pay  for  his  stuff.  His 
kindness  to  me  on  the  score  of  our  fraternal  relations  was 
generous  to  the  full  extent  of  his  ability,  and  showed  him 

105 


War  from  the  Inside 

to  be  a  true  man,  notwithstanding  his  "  secesh"  proclivi 
ties.  It  was  a  great  favor,  for  had  I  been  compelled  to 
remain  out  in  that  rough  weather  sick  as  I  was,  the  conse 
quences  must  have  been  most  serious.  On  leaving  I  tried 
to  pay  him  in  gold  coin  for  his  hospitality,  but  he  firmly 
declined  my  money,  saying :  "  You  know  you  could  not 
have  gotten  into  my  house  for  money.  Pay  in  like  man 
ner  as  you  have  received  when  opportunity  affords."  For 
this  fraternal  hospitality  I  shall  always  remember  my 
"  secesh"  Masonic  brother  with  gratitude,  for  I  feel  that 
it  saved  my  life. 

Another  terrific  day  in  that  awful  ambulance  brought 
me  to  Warrenton,  where  I  got  a  room  at  a  so-called  hotel. 
Here,  upon  the  advice  of  our  surgeon,  I  made  application 
for  leave  of  absence  on  account  of  sickness.  The  red  tape 
that  had  to  be  "  unwound"  in  getting  this  approved  and 
returned  almost  proved  my  ruin.  Captain  Archibald  was 
taken  sick  at  this  time,  and  his  application  for  a  like  leave 
accompanied  mine.  The  corps  surgeon,  Dr.  Dougherty, 
called  with  our  surgeon  to  examine  us  at  the  hotel,  and 
said  he  would  approve  both  applications;  that  it  would 
be  but  a  day  or  so  before  our  leaves  would  be  ready  and 
returned  to  us.  The  next  day  orders  for  the  army  to 
move  were  issued,  and  we  saw  our  men  marching  away. 
It  made  my  heart  ache  not  to  be  in  my  place  with  them. 
I  was,  however,  barely  able  to  sit  up,  so  that  was  out 
of  the  question.  Now  another  possibility  confronted  us, 
namely,  being  picked  up  and  carried  off  as  prisoners  by 
my  late  host's  comrades,  Mosby's  guerillas.  The  army 
was  evidently  evacuating  Warrenton  and  vicinity,  and 
unless  our  leaves  of  absence  reached  us  within  a  very  few 

106 


From  Harper's  Ferry  to  Fredericksburg 

hours  we  would  be  outside  of  the  "  Union  lines"  and 
transportation  to  Washington  unobtainable,  for  the  rail 
road  trains  did  not  pretend  to  run  beyond  the  Union  lines. 
The  next  day  came,  the  last  of  our  troops  were  moving 
out,  and  our  leaves  had  not  come.  Captain  Archbald  and 
I  resolved  that  we  must  cut  that  "  red  tape"  rather  than 
take  the  chances  of  going  to  Richmond.  This  we  did  by 
securing  suits  of  citizens'  clothes  and  making  our  way  as 
citizens  through  the  lines  to  Washington.  From  there 
we  had  no  difficulty  in  reaching  home  in  uniform.  At 
Washington  I  wrote  Colonel  Albright  of  our  dilemma 
and  the  way  we  had  solved  it,  and  asked  that  our  leaves 
of  absence  be  forwarded  to  us  at  Scranton.  They  came 
some  two  weeks  later.  Had  we  remained  at  Warrenton, 
they  would  never  have  reached  us,  unless  in  a  rebel  prison. 
Yet  I  suppose  we  had  committed  an  offence  for  which  we 
could  have  been  court-martialled. 

I  should  have  mentioned  that  just  at  the  time  I  was 
taken  sick,  on  the  Qth  of  November,  whilst  the  army  was 
approaching  Warrenton,  the  order  relieving  General  Mc- 
Clellan  from  the  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
was  issued.  He  was  ordered  to  report  to  his  home  in 
Trenton,  N.  J.,  on  waiting  orders.  Great  was  the  con 
sternation  among  the  veterans  of  that  army  on  his  retire 
ment,  for  they  really  had  a  strong  attachment  for  "  Little 
Mac,"  as  they  fondly  called  him.  He  took  his  leave  in 
an  affectionate  order,  recounting  the  heroic  deeds  of  this 
noble  army.  This  was  followed  by  a  grand  review,  ac 
companied  by  battery  salutes,  and  the  military  career  of 
General  George  B.  McClellan  passed  into  history. 


107 


CHAPTER   IX 


THE   FREDERICKSBURG   CAMPAIGN 

I  MUST  pause  long  enough  to  speak  of  the  days  of 
that  sick  leave.  Just  before  reaching  Scranton  I  met 
on  the  train  my  old  friend  and  employer,  Joseph  C.  Platt, 
of  the  Lackawanna  Iron  &  Coal  Company,  who  insisted 
on  taking  me  home  with  him.  As  I  had  no  home  of  my 
own  and  no  relations  here,  I  accepted  his  kind  hospital 
ity.  Had  I  been  their  own  son  I  could  not  have  been  cared 
for  more  tenderly.  Under  the  circumstances  I  am  sure 
I  was  not  a  very  prepossessing  object  to  entertain.  I  well 
remember  the  warm  bath  and  the  glorious  luxury  of  once 
more  being  actually  clean,  dressed  in  a  civilized  night- 
robe,  and  in  a  comfortable  bed.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  a  soldier  must  habitually  sleep  in  his  clothes.  I  had 
not  had  my  clothes  off,  except  for  a  wash,  since  I  entered 
the  army.  I  had  evidently  been  living  beyond  my 
strength,  and  now  the  latter  gave  way  and  I  found  myself 
unable  to  leave  my  bed  for  the  next  two  weeks.  Dr. 
William  Frothingham  gave  me  most  excellent  medical 
treatment,  and  with  the  motherly  nursing  of  Mrs.  Platt 
I  was  soon  on  the  mend. 

On  the  8th  of  December  I  started  back  for  my  regi 
ment.  I  was  by  no  means  well,  and  the  doctor  was  loath 
to  let  me  go,  as  were  all  my  kind  friends;  but  a  grand 
forward  movement  of  the  army  was  reported  as  in  prog- 

108 


The  Fredericksburg  Campaign 

ress,  and  I  felt  that  I  must  be  at  my  post.  I  reached 
Washington  on  the  Qth,  and  it  took  the  next  two  days  to 
secure  a  pass  and  transportation  to  the  front.  The  latter 
was  somewhat  difficult  to  obtain,  owing  to  the  fact  that 
a  movement  of  the  army  was  in  progress.  What  the  char 
acter  of  the  movement  was  no  one  seemed  to  know,  not 
even  the  provost-marshal,  who  issued  all  passes. 

I  took  a  boat  leaving  at  six  o'clock  A.M.  on  the  I2th 
for  Aquia  Creek  and  thence  went  by  rail  in  a  cattle-car 
to  its  terminus  in  the  open  field  opposite  Fredericksburg. 
(The  rebels  were  mean  enough  to  refuse  us  depot  privi 
leges  at  the  regular  station  in  Fredericksburg. )  I  arrived 
there  about  one  o'clock  P.M.  A  brisk  cannonade  was  in 
progress  between  the  Union  batteries  posted  on  the 
heights  back  of  Falmouth  and  the  Confederate  guns  on 
Marye's  Heights,  back  of  Fredericksburg.  The  problem 
now  was  to  find  my  regiment.  A  stranger  standing  near 
said,  in  answer  to  my  inquiry,  that  the  Union  army  had 
been  encamped  about  a  mile  and  a  half  back  yonder, 
pointing  to  the  hills  in  our  rear,  but  that  he  was  quite 
sure  they  had  all  gone  across  the  river  last  night;  that 
a  big  fight  had  taken  place  about  laying  the  pontoon 
bridge  over  the  river  (the  Rappahannock),  and  the 
Union  forces  had  beaten  the  rebels  back,  laid  the  bridge 
and  had  crossed  over  and  occupied  the  city.  Fredericks 
burg  was  a  city  of  probably  five  or  six  thousand  people, 
lying  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Rappahannock,  which  runs 
at  this  point  nearly  southeast.  The  river  is  probably  one 
hundred  and  fifty  to  two  hundred  yards  wide  here,  quite 
deep,  with  a  rather  swift  current  and  high  banks,  so  that 
one  does  not  see  the  water  until  quite  close  to  it.  The 

109 


War  from  the  Inside 

railroad  formerly  ran  from  Aquia  Creek  to  Richmond 
via  Fredericksburg,  the  connection  to  Washington  being 
by  boat  from  Aquia  Creek.  The  war  stopped  its  opera 
tion,  but  so  much  of  it  as  was  in  the  Union  lines  had 
been  seized  by  the  government,  and  was  being  operated 
by  the  quartermaster's  department  for  war  purposes. 
The  stations  of  the  latter  were  wherever  the  troops  were, 
and  these  were  now  operating  against  Fredericksburg, 
hence  I  was  dumped  down  in  an  open  field  opposite 
that  city  as  stated  above.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
find  a  man  who  was  going  to  Hancock's  old  camp, 
and  I  concluded  to  go  with  him,  believing  that  once 
there  I  could  find  our  division  camp  belonging  to  the 
same  corps. 

I  chartered  a  burly  "  contraban"  to  carry  my  luggage, 
and  we  started.  The  ground  was  very  soft  from  recent 
rains,  and  the  mud  was  something  terrible.  If  one  has 
never  encountered  Virginia  mud,  he  can  have  no  adequate 
idea  of  the  meaning  of  the  word.  It  gets  a  grip  on  your 
feet  and  just  won't  let  go.  Every  rise  of  your  pedal 
extremities  requires  a  mighty  tug,  as  if  you  were  lifting 
the  earth,  as  indeed  you  are — a  much  larger  share  of  it 
than  is  comfortable. 

A  tramp  of  a  mile  and  a  half  brought  us  to  Hancock's 
old  camp.  In  my  weak  condition  I  was  thoroughly  ex 
hausted,  and  so  my  "  contraban''  claimed  to  be,  for  he 
positively  refused  to  go  another  step.  I  got  my  quarter 
master  friend  to  take  care  of  my  baggage,  whilst  I  con 
tinued  my  search  for  our  division  camp.  I  was  not  suc 
cessful  in  finding  it  that  night,  and  was  obliged  to  accept 
the  invitation  of  a  sick  officer  of  the  Eighty-first  Penn- 

110 


The  Fredericksburg  Campaign 

sylvania  Volunteers  to  share  his  quarters  for  the  night. 
I  had  eaten  breakfast  at  five  o'clock  that  morning  in 
Washington  and  had  eaten  nothing  since,  and  it  was  now 
dusk.  I  was  not  only  tired,  but  faint  for  want  of  food. 
This  officer,  whose  name  I  regret  I  have  forgotten,  was 
a  brother  Mason,  and  kindly  divided  his  meagre  rations 
with  me,  which  consisted  of  boiled  rice  and  hardtack. 
He  had  a  little  molasses,  with  which  the  former  was 
lubricated,  and  a  good  strong  cup  of  coffee  was  added. 
It  was  not  Waldorf-Astoria  fare,  to  be  sure,  and  the 
explanation  was  that  the  boys  had  taken  almost  every 
thing  eatable  with  them. 

The  next  morning  I  picked  up  an  old  "  crow-bait"  of 
a  horse,  the  only  four-footed  transportation  possibly  ob 
tainable,  and  started  for  Fredericksburg  to  find  my  regi 
ment.  The  only  directions  I  had  about  disposing  of  this 
frame  of  a  horse  was  to  "  turn  the  bones  loose  when  you 
get  through  with  him."  He  could  go  only  at  a  snail's 
pace,  and  when  I  reached  Fredericksburg  it  must  have 
been  nine  o'clock.  I  crossed  the  pontoon  bridge,  which 
had  been  laid  the  morning  before  under  circumstances 
of  the  greatest  gallantry  by  Howard's  division  of  our 
corps. 

The  "  ball"  was  now  well  opened.  Marye's  Heights 
(pronounced  Marie,  with  the  accent  on  the  last  letter,  as 
if  spelled  Maree),  circling  the  city  from  the  river  above 
to  a  point  below  the  city,  was  literally  crowded  with  bat 
teries  of  rebel  artillery.  These  guns  were  firing  at  our 
batteries  on  the  heights  on  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
and  also  upon  our  troops  occupying  the  city.  The  air 
was  filled  with  screeching,  bursting  shells,  and  a  deafening 

in 


War  from  the  Inside 

pandemonium  was  in  progress.  It  was  not  a  very  in 
viting  place  to  enter  under  these  circumstances,  but  it 
was  as  safe  for  me  as  for  my  regiment,  and  my  duty 
was  to  be  with  them.  The  trouble  was  to  find  it  in  that 
multitude  of  troops  filling  all  the  streets  of  the  city. 
Our  corps  alone  numbered  probably  twelve  thousand  men 
at  that  time,  and  the  Ninth  Corps  was  there  besides. 
However,  I  soon  found  Kimball's  brigade  to  my  great 
delight,  supposing  our  regiment  was  in  it,  as  it  was 
when  I  went  away.  General  Kimball  greeted  me  with 
great  cordiality;  but  when  I  asked  where  my  regiment 
was,  he  said  he  was  sorry  he  could  not  inform  me;  that 
they  had  that  morning  been  transferred,  much  against 
his  will,  to  General  Max  Weber's  brigade,  and  where 
that  was  he  did  not  know.  It  was  probably  somewhere 
in  the  city.  Said  he : 

"  You  cannot  possibly  find  it  now,  and  it  is  a  waste 
of  time  to  try.  I  can  give  you  plenty  of  work  to-day. 
Stay  with  me  and  serve  as  an  aide  on  my  staff." 

The  officers  of  his  staff,  all  of  whom  were  personal 
friends,  urgently  joined  in  the  general's  invitation.  But 
I  felt  that  I  must  be  with  the  regiment  if  it  were  possible 
to  find  it,  and  so  declined  what  would  have  been  a  dis 
tinguishing  service.  Some  distance  down  the  main  street 
I  ran  on  to  the  regiment  just  when  I  had  abandoned  all 
hope  of  finding  it.  My  reception  was  exceedingly  cor 
dial,  accompanied  with  the  remark:  "  Just  in  time,  adju 
tant,  just  in  time."  I  found  Lieutenant-Colonel  Albright 
in  command  and  with  no  help  from  our  field  and  staff. 
Colonel  Wilcox  was  still  on  sick  leave.  Major  Shreve 
had  returned  to  camp  during  the  heavy  cannonading  of 


112 


The  Fredericksburg  Campaign 

the  day  before,  and  Colonel  Albright  had  lost  his  voice 
from  a  severe  cold,  so  that  I  had  to  supply  voice  for 
him  in  the  issuing  of  orders,  in  addition  to  my  other 
duties. 

The  situation  was  most  portentous.  We  lay  in  the 
main  street  under  the  shelter  of  the  houses,  which  were 
being  bombarded  by  the  rebel  batteries  in  their  efforts 
to  reach  our  troops.  The  houses  were  all  vacant;  the 
people  had  fled  on  the  approach  of  our  army.  Not  a 
soul  did  we  see  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  during  the 
two  days  we  occupied  it.  They  had  evidently  left  in 
great  haste,  taking  but  few  things  with  them.  I  was  told 
that  in  some  houses  the  boys  found  and  ate  meals  that 
had  been  prepared  and  left  in  their  flight,  and  in  all 
there  was  more  or  less  food,  which  was  appropriated. 
Flour  was  plentiful,  and  the  night  after  the  battle  there 
were  army  flapjacks  galore.  In  some  cases  it  might  have 
been  said  these  were  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made, 
but  they  went  just  the  same. 

An  incident  connected  with  this  occupation  of  Fred 
ericksburg  comes  to  light  after  forty  years.  If  General 
Howard  should  see  it  the  mystery  of  the  sudden  dis 
appearance  of  his  breakfast  on  that  morning  might  be 
cleared  up.  Our  regiment  happened  to  be  quartered 
in  the  morning  near  his  head-quarters.  Rations  were 
scarce.  General  Howard's  servant  had  prepared  him  a 
most  tempting  breakfast  from  supplies  found  and  con 
fiscated  from  one  of  the  houses.  The  sight  of  this  re 
past  and  its  savory  fumes  were  too  much  for  the  empty 
stomachs  of  two  of  our  men,  who  shall  be  nameless 
here.  The  trick  was  a  neat  one.  One  of  them  got  the 
8  113 


War  from  the  Inside 

attention  of  the  cook  and  held  it  until  the  other  reached 
into  the  tent  and  dumped  the  contents  of  the  main  dish, 
hot  and  steaming,  into  his  haversack  and  quietly  saun 
tered  away.  When  the  cook  discovered  his  loss  the  other 
fellow  was  gone.  These  rascals  said  it  was  the  best  dish 
of  ham  and  eggs  they  ever  ate.  Many  houses  had  fine 
pianos  and  other  musical  instruments,  and  in  some  in 
stances  impromptu  dances  were  on  whilst  Confederate 
shells  whanged  through  the  house  above  their  heads.  It 
is  safe  to  say  that  there  was  little  left  of  valuable  bric- 
a-brac  to  greet  the  fugitive  people  on  their  return.  And 
it  is  highly  probable  that  pianos  and  handsome  furniture 
needed  considerable  repairing  after  the  exodus  of  the 
"  Yank."  This  was  not  due  to  pure  vandalism,  although 
war  creates  the  latter,  but  to  the  feeling  of  hatred  for 
the  miserable  rebels  who  had  brought  on  the  war  and 
were  the  cause  of  our  being  there.  And  it  must  be  ad 
mitted  there  were  some  who  pocketed  all  they  could  for 
the  commercialism  there  might  be  in  it,  the  argument 
again  being,  "  somebody  will  take  it,  and  I  might  as  well 
have  it  as  the  other  fellow."  The  first  part  of  the  argu 
ment  was  doubtless  as  true  as  the  latter  part  was  false. 
Many  trinkets  were  hawked  about  among  the  men  after 
the  fight  as  souvenirs.  Among  them  was  a  silver-plated 
communion  flagon.  Some  scamp  had  filched  it  from  one 
of  the  churches  and  was  trying  to  sell  it.  Fortunately,  he 
did  not  belong  to  our  regiment.  Our  chaplain  took  it 
from  him  and  had  it  strapped  to  his  saddle-bag.  His 
purpose  was  to  preserve  it  for  its  owner  if  the  time 
should  come  that  it  could  be  returned.  But  in  the  mean 
time  its  presence  attached  to  his  saddle  made  him  the 


The  Fredericksburg  Campaign 

butt  of  any  amount  of  raillery  from  both  officers  and 
men. 

When  I  joined  the  regiment  it  was  lying  in  front  of  the 
Court-House,  from  the  steeple  of  which  some  sixty  or 
seventy  feet  high,  the  flags  of  our  signal-corps  were  most 
actively  wagging.  It  occurred  to  me  that  those  signal 
men  were  mighty  nervy  fellows.  They  were  a  beautiful 
mark  for  the  rebel  batteries,  which  were  evidently  doing 
their  best  to  knock  them  out.  The  steeple  was  a  plain, 
old-fashioned  affair,  having  an  open  belfry,  which  seemed 
to  be  supported  by  four  upright  posts  or  timbers.  I  saw 
one  of  those  uprights  knocked  out  by  a  rebel  shell.  A 
couple  more  equally  good  shots  and  our  signal-fellows 
would  come  ignominiously — no,  gloriously — down,  for 
there  could  be  no  ignominy  with  such  pluck.  But  the 
wig-wagging  went  on,  I  fancied,  with  a  little  more  snap 
and  audacity  than  before,  and  they  maintained  their  sta 
tion  there  in  the  very  teeth  of  the  rebel  batteries  until  the 
army  was  withdrawn.  So  much  for  "  Yankee  nerve." 
I  afterwards  learned  that  the  signal-officer  there  was  none 
other  than  Lieutenant  Frederick  Fuller,  of  Scranton,  one 
of  my  most  intimate  personal  friends.  Lieutenant  Fuller 
told  me  that  he  was  on  duty  at  Burnside's  head-quarters 
on  that  morning;  that  a  station  was  ordered  opened  in 
the  belfry  of  that  Court-House,  and  another  officer  was 
despatched  thither  for  that  duty ;  that  after  waiting  some 
time  for  the  flags  to  appear  he  was  ordered  over  to  see 
what  the  trouble  was.  He  found  the  other  officer  sitting 
under  shelter,  afraid  to  mount  the  belfry,  nor  could 
any  persuasion  induce  him  to  face  that  storm  of  shell. 
Lieutenant  Fuller  thereupon  climbed  up  into  the  belfry, 

11.5- 


War  from  the  Inside 

opened  the  station  himself,  and  ran  it  during  the  whole 
battle. 

About  ten  o'clock  the  command  "  Forward"  was 
sounded,  and  our  brigade  moved  out  towards  Marye's 
Heights.  Some  idea  of  the  topography  of  Fredericksburg 
and  its  rear  I  find  is  necessary  to  an  understanding  of 
what  follows.  Marye's  Heights,  which  encircle  the  city 
back  some  five  hundred  yards,  are  the  termination  of  a 
plateau  which  rises  from  one  hundred  and  fifty  to  two 
hundred  feet  in  an  abrupt  terrace  from  the  plain  upon 
which  the  city  stands.  These  heights  form  a  half-circle 
from  the  river  above  to  a  point  below  the  city  some  little 
distance  from  the  river,  and  are  from  a  mile  to  a  mile 
and  a  half  long  and  are  most  admirably  adapted  for 
defensive  purposes.  The  rebel  batteries,  numbering  at 
least  one  hundred  guns,  were  massed  on  these  heights, 
and  covered  not  only  every  street  leading  out  from  the 
city,  but  every  square  foot  of  ground  of  the  plain  below. 
A  third  of  the  way  down  the  terrace  was  an  earthwork 
filled  with  infantry,  whilst  at  its  foot  ran  the  famous 
stone  wall  extending  southward  from  the  cemetery  above 
the  city,  and  was  continued  by  an  earthwork  around  the 
whole  circle.  Behind  this  stone  wall  was  massed  a  double 
line  of  Confederate  infantry.  To  enter  either  street  lead 
ing  out  to  those  heights  was  to  face  the  concentrated  fire 
of  that  mass  of  artillery  and  the  deadly  work  of  those 
three  lines  of  infantry.  Yet  that  was  just  what  we  had 
before  us. 

Our  division  (French's)  led  the  assault.  Our  regi 
ment  brought  up  the  rear  of  our  brigade  column.  As 
each  regiment  turned  into  the  street  leading  out,  it  took 

1x6 


The  Fredericksburg  Campaign 

up  the  run  to  cover  this  exposed  ground  as  quickly  as 
possible.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Albright  was  leading  our 
regiment  and  I  was  by  his  side.  We  passed  rapidly  up 
the  street,  already  covered  with  the  dead  and  wounded 
which  had  fallen  from  the  regiments  that  had  preceded 
us,  until  we  reached  the  embankment  of  a  railroad,  which 
was  nearly  parallel  with  the  enemy's  works.  A  tempo 
rary  halt  was  made  here  preparatory  to  moving  forward 
in  line  of  battle. 

Turning  to  see  that  our  men  were  in  position,  I  was 
amazed  to  find  that  we  had  but  one  company  with  us.  It 
was  my  duty  as  adjutant  to  go  back  and  find  and  bring 
up  the  balance  of  the  regiment.  The  distance  was  about 
four  hundred  yards.  I  can  truthfully  say  that  in  that 
moment  I  gave  my  life  up.  I  do  not  expect  ever  again  to 
face  death  more  certainly  than  I  thought  I  did  then.  It  did 
not  seem  possible  that  I  could  go  through  that  fire  again 
and  return  alive.  The  grass  did  not  grow  under  my  feet 
going  back.  My  sprinting  record  was  probably  made  then. 
It  may  be  possible  to  see  the  humorous  side  at  this  distance, 
but  it  was  verily  a  life  and  death  matter  then.  One  may 
ask  how  such  dangers  can  be  faced.  The  answer  is,  there 
are  many  things  more  to  be  feared  than  death.  Cowardice 
and  failure  of  duty  with  me  were  some  of  them.  I  can 
fully  appreciate  the  story  of  the  soldier's  soliloquy  as  he 
saw  a  rabbit  sprinting  back  from  the  line  of  fire : 

"  Go  it,  cotton  tail ;  if  I  hadn't  a  reputation  at  stake,  I'd 
go  to." 

Reputation  and  duty  were  the  holding  forces.  I  said 
to  myself,  "  This  is  duty.  I'll  trust  in  God  and  do  it.  If 
I  fall,  I  cannot  die  better."  Without  the  help  and  stimulus 

117 


War  from  the  Inside 

of  that  trust  I  could  not  have  done  it,  for  I  doubt  if  any 
man  was  ever  more  keenly  susceptible  to  danger  than  I, 
and  the  experience  of  Antietam  had  taught  me  the  full 
force  of  this  danger.  The  nervous  strain  was  simply 
awful.  It  can  be  appreciated  only  by  those  who  have 
experienced  it.  The  atmosphere  seemed  surcharged  with 
the  most  startling  and  frightful  things.  Deaths,  wounds, 
and  appalling  destruction  everywhere.  As  fast  as  I  was 
running  back  over  that  street,  my  eyes  caught  an  incident 
that  I  can  see  now,  which  excited  my  pity,  though  I  had 
no  time  to  offer  help.  A  fine-looking  fellow  had  been 
struck  by  a  shot,  which  had  severed  one  leg  and  left  it 
hanging  by  one  of  the  tendons,  the  bone  protruding,  and 
he  was  bleeding  profusely.  Some  men  were  apparently 
trying  to  get  him  off  the  street.  They  had  hold  of  his 
arms  and  the  other  leg,  but  were  jumping  and  dodging 
at  every  shell  that  exploded,  jerking  and  twisting  this 
dangling  leg  to  his  horrible  torture.  I  remember  hearing 
him  beseeching  them  to  lay  him  down  and  let  him  die. 
They  were  probably  a  trio  of  cowards  trying  to  get  back 
from  the  front,  and  were  using  this  wounded  man  to  get 
away  with,  a  not  infrequent  occurrence  with  that  class  of 
bummers. 

I  found  the  balance  of  the  regiment  had  passed  our 
street  and  were  in  confusion  further  down  the  main  street. 
As  the  second  company  was  about  turning  to  follow  the 
column  a  shell  had  exploded  in  their  faces,  killing  and 
wounding  some  ten  men  and  throwing  it  into  disorder. 
Before  it  could  be  rallied  the  advancing  column  was  out 
of  sight.  It  was  the  work  of  but  a  few  moments  to 
straighten  out  the  tangle  and  head  them  again  for  the 

118 


The  Fredericksburg  Campaign 

front.  No  body  of  men  could  have  more  quickly  and 
bravely  responded,  though  they  told  me  afterwards  that 
they  read  in  my  pallid  face  the  character  of  the  work 
before  them.  Back  we  went  up  that  street  on  the  run, 
having  to  pick  our  way  to  avoid  stepping  on  the  dead  and 
wounded,  for  the  ground  was  now  blue  with  our  fallen 
heroes. 


119 


CHAPTER   X 


THE   BATTLE   OF    FREDERICKSBURG CONCLUDED 

REACHING  the  place  in  the  rear  of  that  railroad  em 
bankment,  where  I  had  left  the  brigade,  I  found  it  had 
just  gone  forward  in  line  of  battle,  and  a  staff  officer 
directed  me  to  bring  the  rest  of  the  regiment  forward 
under  fire,  which  I  did,  fortunately  getting  them  into 
their  proper  position.  The  line  was  lying  prone  upon 
the  ground  in  that  open  field  and  trying  to  maintain  a 
fire  against  the  rebel  infantry  not  more  than  one  hundred 
and  fifty  yards  in  our  front  behind  that  stone  wall.  We 
were  now  exposed  to  the  fire  of  their  three  lines  of  in 
fantry,  having  no  shelter  whatever.  It  was  like  stand 
ing  upon  a  raised  platform  to  be  shot  down  by  those 
sheltered  behind  it.  Had  we  been  ordered  to  fix  bayonets 
and  charge  those  heights  we  could  have  understood  the 
movement,  though  that  would  have  been  an  impossible 
undertaking,  defended  as  they  were.  But  to  be  sent 
close  up  to  those  lines  to  maintain  a  firing-line  without 
any  intrenchments  or  other  shelter,  if  that  was  its  purpose, 
was  simply  to  invite  wholesale  slaughter  without  the 
least  compensation.  It  was  to  attempt  the  impossible, 
and  invite  certain  destruction  in  the  effort.  On  this  inter 
esting  subject  I  have  very  decided  convictions,  which  I 
will  give  later  on. 

Proceeding   now   with    my   narrative,    we   were   evi- 

120 


FIRST     LIEUT.    JAMES    A.    ROGER; 
CO.    C 


FIRST     LIEUT.    NOAH     H.    JAY 
CO.    K 


FIRST     LIEUT.    A.    C.    MENSCH  FIRST     LIEUT.    CHARLES    E.    GLADDING 

CO.    E  CO.    D 


FIRST     LIEUT.    ISAIAH    W.    WILLITTS 
CO.     H 


lr    , 

SECOND    LIEUT.    D.    R.    MELLICK 
CO.    E 


UMP 


TY) 


The  Battle  of  Fredericksburg 

dently  in  a  fearful  slaughter-pen.  Our  men  were  being 
swept  away  as  by  a  terrific  whirlwind.  The  ground  was 
soft  and  spongy  from  recent  rains,  and  our  faces  and 
clothes  were  bespattered  with  mud  from  bullets  and  frag 
ments  of  shells  striking  the  ground  about  us,  whilst  men 
were  every  moment  being  hit  by  the  storm  of  projectiles 
that  filled  the  air.  In  the  midst  of  that  frightful  carnage 
a  man  rushing  by  grasped  my  hand  and  spoke.  I  turned 
and  looked  into  the  face  of  a  friend  from  a  distant  city. 
There  was  a  glance  of  recognition  and  he  was  swept  away. 
What  his  fate  was  I  do  not  know. 

That  same  moment  I  received  what  was  supposed  to 
be  my  death  wound.  Whilst  the  men  were  lying  down, 
my  duties  kept  me  on  my  feet.  Lieutenant  Charles  Mc- 
Dougal,*  commanding  the  color  company,  called  to  me 
that  the  color-guard  were  all  either  killed  or  wounded. 
We  had  two  stands  of  colors,  the  national  and  State  flags. 
These  colors  were  carried  by  two  color-sergeants,  pro 
tected  by  six  color-corporals,  which  made  up  the  color- 
guard.  If  either  sergeant  became  disabled  the  nearest  cor 
poral  took  the  colors,  and  so  on  until  the  color-guard  were 
down.  This  was  the  condition  when  this  officer  called  to 
me  to  replace  these  disabled  men,  so  that  the  colors  should 
be  kept  flying.  He  had  one  flag  in  his  hand  as  I  ap 
proached  him,  and  he  was  in  the  act  of  handing  it  to  me 
when  a  bullet  crashed  through  his  arm  and  wrist,  spatter 
ing  my  face  with  his  warm  blood.  I  seized  the  staff  as  it 

*  Lieutenant,  afterwards  Captain,  Charles  McDougal  was  a  Metho 
dist  minister  before  he  entered  the  army.  If  he  could  preach  as  well 
as  he  could  fight,  he  was  worthy  of  a  commission  in  the  church  mili 
tant. 

121 


War  from  the  Inside 

fell  from  his  shattered  arm.  The  next  instant  a  bullet  cut 
the  staff  away  just  below  my  hand.  An  instant  later  I 
was  struck  on  the  head  by  the  fragment  of  a  shell  and  fell 
unconscious  with  the  colors  in  my  hand.  How  long  I 
remained  unconscious  I  do  not  know,  possibly  twenty 
minutes  or  more.  What  were  my  sensations  when  hit? 
I  felt  a  terrific  blow,  but  without  pain,  and  the  thought 
flashed  through  my  mind,  "  This  is  the  end,"  and  then 
everything  was  black.  I  do  not  remember  falling.  It 
takes  time  to  write  this,  but  events  moved  then  with 
startling  rapidity.  From  the  time  we  went  forward  from 
the  embankment  until  the  line  was  swept  back  could  have 
been  but  a  few  minutes,  otherwise  all  must  have  been 
killed. 

When  I  revived  I  was  alone  with  the  dead  and 
wounded.  The  line  of  battle  had  been  swept  away.  The 
field  about  me  was  literally  covered  with  the  blue  uni 
forms  of  our  dead  and  wounded  men.  The  firing  had 
very  perceptibly  decreased.  I  had  worn  into  the  battle 
my  overcoat,  with  my  sword  buckled  on  the  outside.  I 
had  been  hit  on  the  left  side  of  my  head,  and  that  side 
of  my  body  was  covered  with  blood  down  to  my  feet, 
which  was  still  flowing.  My  first  thought  was  as  to  my 
condition,  whether  mortally  wounded  or  not.  I  was  per 
ceptibly  weakened  from  loss  of  blood,  but  lying  there  I 
could  not  tell  how  much  strength  I  had  left.  I  did  not 
dare  move,  for  that  would  make  me  a  target  for  the  guns 
that  covered  that  terrible  wall,  the  muzzles  of  which  I 
could  plainly  see.  Many  of  them  were  still  spitting  out 
their  fire  with  a  venom  that  made  my  position  exceedingly 
uncomfortable.  What  should  I  do?  What  could  I  do? 

122 


The  Battle  of  Fredericksburg 

To  remain  there  was  either  to  bleed  to  death  or  be  taken 
prisoner  and  sent  to  Libby,  which  I  felt  would  mean  for 
me  a  sure  lingering  death.  To  make  a  move  to  get  off 
the  field  would  draw  the  fire  of  those  guns,  which  would 
surely  finish  me.  These  were  the  alternatives. 

I  carefully  stretched  my  legs  to  test  my  strength,  and 
I  made  up  my  mind  I  had  enough  left  to  carry  me  off  the 
field,  and  I  resolved  to  take  my  chances  in  the  effort.  I 
determined  that  I  would  zigzag  my  course  to  the  rear 
so  as  not  to  give  them  a  line  shot  at  me.  So  getting 
myself  together  I  made  a  supreme  effort  and  sprang  up 
and  off  in  jumps,  first  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left.  As 
I  expected,  they  opened  on  me,  and  the  bullets  flew  thick 
and  fast  about  me,  The  first  turn  I  got  a  bullet  through 
my  right  leg  just  above  the  ankle.  It  felt  like  the  stinging 
cut  of  a  whip  and  rather  accelerated  my  speed.  About 
fifty  yards  back  was  an  old  slab  fence  to  my  right,  and  I 
plunged  headlong  behind  that,  hoping  to  find  shelter  from 
those  bullets.  I  fell  directly  behind  several  other  wounded 
men,  two  of  whom  rolled  over  dead  from  bullets  that  came 
through  the  slabs  and  which  were  probably  aimed  at  me. 
This  flushed  me  again,  and  by  the  same  zigzag  tactics 
I  succeeded  in  getting  back  to  the  railroad  embankment, 
where,  to  my  great  joy,  I  found  Colonel  Albright  with 
what  remained  of  the  regiment.  Colonel  Albright 
grasped  me  in  his  arms  as  I  came  over,  with  the  exclama 
tion,  "  We  thought  you  were  killed."  Sergeant-Ma jor 
Clapp  told  me  that  he  had  rolled  me  over  and  satisfied 
himself  that  I  was  dead  before  they  went  back. 

As  I  reached  cover  under  this  embankment  I  remember 
noticing  a  field-officer  rallying  his  men  very  near  us  on 

123 


War  from  the  Inside 

our  right,  and  that  instant  his  head  was  literally  carried 
away  by  a  shell.  So  intense  was  the  situation  that  even 
this  tragic  death  received  only  a  passing  thought.  Then 
came  the  Irish  brigade,  charging  over  our  line  as  they  did 
at  Antietam.  They  came  up  and  went  forward  in  fine  form, 
but  they  got  but  a  few  yards  beyond  the  embankment, 
when  they  broke  and  came  back,  what  was  left  of  them, 
in  great  confusion.  No  troops  could  stand  that  fire. 
Our  division  and  the  whole  Second  Corps,  in  fact,  were 
now  completely  disorganized,  and  the  men  were  making 
their  way  back  to  the  city  and  the  cover  of  the  river-bank 
as  best  they  could,  whilst  the  splendid  old  Ninth  Corps 
was  advancing  to  take  its  place.  Profiting  by  our  experi 
ence,  they  did  not  advance  by  those  streets  through  which 
we  came,  but  made  their  way  through  houses  and  yards 
and  so  escaped  that  concentrated  fire  on  the  streets.  Their 
advancing  lines,  covering  the  whole  city  front,  looked 
magnificent,  and  it  was  dreadful  to  think  that  such  a 
splendid  body  of  men  must  march  into  such  a  slaughter- 
pen.  Their  movement  was  a  repetition  of  ours.  With 
bayonets  unfixed  they  moved  forward  and  attempted  to 
maintain  a  firing-line  under  Marye's  Heights  on  the 
ground  from  which  we  had  been  driven,  only  to  be  hurled 
mercilessly  back  as  we  had  been.  Our  line  had  been  the 
first  to  make  this  effort,  and  for  some  reason  we  had 
approached  to  within  about  one  hundred  yards  of  their 
main  line  of  infantry,  much  closer  than  any  of  the  troops 
that  followed.  The  others  had  barely  got  beyond  the  em 
bankment,  when  they  were  swept  away.  We,  having  ap 
proached  nearer  their  line,  were,  of  course,  longer  exposed 
to  their  fire  and  lost  more  heavily. 

124 


The  Battle  of  Fredericksburg 

I  was  always  curious  to  know  why  we  of  the  first  line 
of  that  fateful  movement  succeeded  in  getting  so  much 
nearer  their  works  than  the  equally  brave  and  determined 
men  who  followed  us.  Some  years  afterwards  on  re 
visiting  this  location  I  met  an  ex-Confederate  who  com 
manded  one  of  the  rebel  batteries  on  those  heights  that 
day.  In  answer  to  my  questions,  he  said  the  first 
"  Yankee"  line  was  permitted  to  approach  much  nearer 
than  those  that  followed,  for,  said  he,  "  we  knew  they 
were  our  meat,  and  when  we  finally  opened  on  them 
with  our  full  force,  the  slaughter  was  so  awful  it  made 
me  heart  sick.  But  you  kept  coming  with  such  persist 
ency  that  we  did  not  dare  repeat  those  tactics."  This 
may  have  been  partially  true  so  far  as  concerned  their 
infantry  fire,  but  a  more  potent  reason,  in  my  judgment, 
was  that  we  had  developed  the  utter  hopelessness  of  the 
attempt,  and  men  could  not  put  heart  into  the  effort. 

Recurring  to  myself  again,  Colonel  Albright  stanched 
the  flowing  of  blood  from  my  wound  in  the  head  by 
making  a  strong  compress  of  my  large  bandana  hand 
kerchief.  The  other  wound  in  my  leg  did  not  give  me 
much  trouble  then.  In  that  condition,  accompanied  by 
another  wounded  man,  I  made  my  way  back  into  the 
city.  We  found  it  one  vast  hospital.  Every  house  was 
literally  crowded  with  wounded  men.  We  were  fortu 
nate  enough  to  run  against  our  brigade  surgeon,  who 
had  taken  possession  of  a  brick  building  on  the  main 
street  for  hospital  purposes.  The  only  thing  he  could 
give  me  to  lie  down  upon  was  a  wooden  bench.  We 
had  dismounted  and  left  our  horses  with  a  servant  when 
we  went  forward,  and  our  blankets,  etc.,  were  with  them, 

125 


War  from  the  Inside 

and  where  they  were  now  there  was  no  means  of  know 
ing.  I  was  therefore  without  those  comforts.  Every 
thing  of  that  nature  left  by  the  rebels  had  long  before 
been  appropriated.  The  doctor  hastily  examined  my 
wounds,  pronounced  them  not  dangerous,  ordered  the  hos 
pital  steward  to  dress  them,  and  was  away.  He,  how 
ever,  appropriated  my  red  handkerchief.  I  had  been 
presented  by  a  friend  on  leaving  Scranton  with  two  large 
old-fashioned  red  silk  bandana  handkerchiefs,  and  they 
were  exceedingly  useful.  The  doctor,  seeing  them,  said, 
"  I  must  have  these  to  nail  up  over  the  outside  door  to 
show  that  this  is  a  hospital,"  and,  without  so  much  as  say 
ing  by  your  leave,  carried  them  off.  The  effort  was  to 
secure  as  much  protection  as  possible  from  the  fire  of  the 
enemy,  and  to  do  this  the  red  flag  of  the  hospital  must  be 
displayed.  It  is  against  the  rules  of  civilized  warfare  to 
fire  upon  a  hospital.  The  doctor  said  my  red  silk  hand 
kerchiefs  were  the  first  red  stuff  of  any  kind  he  had  been 
able  to  get  hold  of.  Of  course  I  was  glad  to  part  with 
them  for  that  purpose,  though  they  were  worth  at  that 
time  $2  each  in  gold.  The  wound  in  my  head  was  for 
tunately  a  glancing  blow  from  a  fragment  of  a  shell.  It 
tore  the  scalp  from  the  bone  about  three  inches  in  length 
in  the  form  of  a  V.  It  has  never  given  me  serious  trouble, 
more  than  to  be  a  barometer  of  changing  weather.  The 
wound  in  my  leg  nearly  severed  the  big  tendon.  They 
both  quickly  healed,  and  I  was  off  duty  with  them  but  the 
one  day  I  took  to  get  back  to  camp. 

After  my  wounds  had  been  dressed  I  tried  to  sleep, 
being  not  only  very  weak  from  loss  of  blood,  but  almost 
in  a  condition  of  nervous  exhaustion.  I  laid  down  on  my 

126 


The  Battle  of  Fredericksburg 

bench,  but  shells  were  continually  crashing  through  the 
building,  and  sleep  was  impossible.  I  went  out  on  the 
street.  It  was  crowded  with  wounded  and  straggling 
soldiers.  The  stragglers  were  hunting  for  their  regi 
ments,  the  wounded  for  hospital  room.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  army  must  have  disintegrated.  This  was  practically 
true  of  the  Second  and  Ninth  Corps,  which  had  made  the 
assault.  Towards  night  General  French  rode  down  the 
street,  accompanied  by  his  staff.  Seeing  me,  he  stopped 
his  horse  and  exclaimed,  "  Adjutant,  where  is  my  divi 
sion  ?  Tell  me  where  my  men  are.  My  God,  I  am  with 
out  a  command!"  and  the  tears  were  flowing  down  his 
red,  weather-beaten  face.  He  was  beside  himself  over  the 
awful  losses  of  his  division.  Well  he  might  be,  for  a 
great  number  of  them  were  lying  on  yonder  field  in  front 
of  Marye's  Heights,  and  the  balance  were  scattered 
through  the  houses  and  on  the  river-bank  practically 
disorganized. 

I  was  greatly  alarmed  for  our  safety  that  night.  It 
seemed  to  me  highly  probable  that  General  Lee  would 
come  down  upon  us  and  capture  all  that  were  in  the  city, 
as  he  could  easily  have  done.  Possibly  he  was  satisfied 
with  the  damage  already  inflicted,  and  did  not  care  to 
assume  the  care  of  our  wounded,  which  that  would  have 
involved.  I  remained  on  my  bench  in  that  hospital 
through  that  long  night  without  food  or  covering.  I  had 
eaten  nothing  since  early  morning.  With  the  constant 
whanging  of  shells  through  ours  and  adjacent  buildings 
and  the  moaning  of  the  wounded  lying  all  about  me, 
sleep  or  rest  was  impossible.  It  was  a  night  too  dreadful 
to  think  of,  and  makes  me  shudder  again  as  I  write.  We 

197. 


War  from  the  Inside 

remained  in  the  city  the  next  day,  Sunday,  and  I  rejoined 
our  regiment,  which,  with  other  troops,  was  lying  under 
the  shelter  of  the  river-bank.  Officers  were  getting  their 
men  together  as  far  as  possible  and  bringing  order  out  of 
chaos.  We  had  Sunday  about  two  hundred  for  duty  out 
of  three  hundred  and  fifty  taken  into  the  battle.  On  Mon 
day,  the  1 5th,  we  who  were  wounded  were  told  to  make 
our  way  across  the  river  back  to  our  old  camps  as  best  we 
could.  I  was  now  very  weak,  and  my  head  and  leg  were 
very  sore.  The  latter  gave  me  much  trouble  in  walking, 
nevertheless  there  was  a  three-mile  tramp  before  us. 
Lieutenant  Musselman,  also  wounded,  went  with  me  on 
this  weary  tramp.  We  did  not  reach  camp  that  night,  and 
so  had  to  find  shelter  at  a  farm-house,  already  full  of 
straggling  and  wounded  soldiers.  The  owner  was  a 
widow,  living  with  a  grown-up  daughter,  and  was  a  bitter 
rebel,  although  professing  Union  sentiments  whilst  our 
army  was  there.  She  was,  of  course,  greatly  annoyed  by 
the  presence  of  these  soldiers,  most  of  whom  were  eating 
up  her  provisions  without  paying  for  them.  Some  of 
them  were  "  bummers,"  who  had  run  away  from  the 
battle  and  had  persuaded  her  to  feed  and  shelter  them  for 
the  protection  they  professed  to  afford  her.  She  was  in 
great  wrath  when  we  reached  there  and  peremptorily  for 
bade  us  entering.  But  I  told  her  firmly  that  we  were 
wounded  men  and  must  have  shelter;  that  I  would  will 
ingly  pay  for  accommodations,  but,  permission  or  not,  the 
latter  we  must  have.  This  argument  seemed  to  be  con 
vincing,  and  the  daughter  led  us  up  to  the  garret,  which, 
she  said,  was  the  only  unoccupied  room  in  the  house. 
Here  she  spread  a  blanket  on  the  floor  for  us  to  sleep  on. 


The  Battle  of  Fredericksburg 

I  suppose  this  was  the  best  she  could  do.  Then,  at  our 
solicitation,  she  got  us  some  supper,  an  exceedingly  frugal 
meal,  but  we  were  glad  to  get  that.  The  daughter  did  not 
seem  to  share  her  mother's  bitterness,  but  as  often  as  she 
could  would  interject  a  word  in  our  favor,  and  really  did 
all  she  could  for  us.  I  sincerely  hope  she  was  ultimately 
made  a  permanent  prisoner  by  some  good  "  boy  in  blue." 
Here  would  have  been  an  excellent  opportunity  to  have 
woven  into  this  narrative  the  golden  thread  of  romance. 
This  pretty  secesh  girl,  with  flashing  blue  eyes  and  golden 
hair,  rebel  to  the  core,  yet  befriending  a  wounded  Union 
soldier,  etc.  How  readily  it  lends  itself,  but  the  truth 
must  be  told.  The  little  arrow  god  had  already  driven 
home  his  shaft,  and  so  the  romance  could  not  mature. 

During  the  evening  General  Franz  Sigel  and  staff 
came  to  the  house  and  demanded  supper.  Our  lady  was 
very  polite,  assured  him  that  it  was  impossible.  "  Very 
well/'  said  General  Sigel,  "  I  think  I  shall  want  this  place 
to-morrow  for  a  hospital.  Madam,  your  kindness  will  be 
reciprocated."  He  spoke  very  emphatically,  whereat  the 
pretty  daughter  began  to  cry,  and  the  mother  to  stammer 
apologies,  and  said  she  would  do  the  best  she  could  for 
them,  but  she  really  had  nothing  to  cook.  The  general 
retired  very  indignant.  Whether  or  not  his  threat  was 
carried  out  I  do  not  know,  for  the  next  morning  we  were 
off  without  trying  to  get  breakfast.  On  asking  for  her 
bill  we  were  surprised  to  find  her  charges  were  evidently 
based  on  the  highest  war-time  hotel  rates.  We  had  so 
poor  a  supper  that  we  had  no  desire  for  breakfast  there, 
and  had  slept  on  the  garret  floor.  For  this  she  demanded 
one  dollar.  We  paid  her  fifty  cents,  which  was  more  than 
9  129 


War  from  the  Inside 

double  its  worth,  and  left  amidst  a  great  volley  of  her 
choicest  anathemas. 

We  reached  camp  towards  noon,  and  found  we  had 
tramped  about  five  miles  out  of  our  way.  The  regiment 
was  there  ahead  of  us,  the  troops  having  evacuated 
Fredericksburg  on  Monday,  two  days  after  the  battle, 
without  opposition.  We  were  actually  under  fire  in  this 
battle,  that  is,  from  the  time  the  assault  began  until  we 
were  swept  back,  probably  not  more  than  thirty  minutes 
as  against  four  and  one-half  hours  at  Antietam.  Yet  our 
losses  were  proportionately  much  heavier.  During  my 
absence  on  sick  leave,  our  regiment,  after  leaving  War- 
renton,  had  been  detailed  on  heavy  "  fatigue"  duty,  load 
ing  and  unloading  vessels  and  various  kinds  of  laborer's 
work  at  Belle-plain,  and  in  consequence  many  were  on 
the  sick  list,  others  were  on  various  details,  so  that  when 
we  went  into  this  battle  we  had  only  three  hundred  and 
fifty  men  for  duty,  against  seven  hundred  and  fifty  at 
Antietam.  Of  this  number  my  diary,  written  the  I5th, 
says  we  lost :  Killed,  7 ;  wounded,  80 ;  missing,  20 ;  total, 
107.  Lieutenant  Hoagland,  Company  H,  was  killed.  Of 
the  wounded,  four  were  officers, — Captain  Richard  Still- 
well  and  First  Lieutenant  John  B.  Floyd,  Company  K; 
First  Lieutenant  Musselman,  Company  E,  and  First  Lieu 
tenant  McDougal,  commanding  Company  C.  Lieutenant 
McDougal's  arm  was  shattered  by  a  minie-ball  whilst 
handing  me  the  colors,  detailed  above.  Captain  Still- 
well  received  a  very  singular  wound.  A  bullet  struck 
the  side  of  his  neck  near  the  big  artery  and  appeared  to 
have  gouged  out  a  bit  of  flesh  and  glanced  off.  It  bled 
more  than  this  circumstance  would  have  seemed  to  war- 

130 


The  Battle  of  Fredericksburg 

rant,  but  the  captain  was  sure  he  was  not  hurt  and  made 
light  of  it.  Swelling  and  pain  speedily  developed  in  his 
shoulder,  and  it  was  found  that  the  missile,  instead  of 
glancing  off,  had  taken  a  downward  course  and  finally 
lodged  near  his  shoulder- joint,  a  distance  of  ten  or  twelve 
inches  from  where  it  entered.  He  was  given  leave  of 
absence  on  account  of  wounds,  and  the  ball  was  cut  out 
after  his  return  home,  and  ultimately  the  whole  channel 
made  by  the  ball  had  to  be  opened,  when  it  was  found 
lined  with  whiskers  which  the  ball  had  carried  in  with  it. 
Most  of  those  computed  above  as  missing  were  un 
doubtedly  killed,  but  had  not  been  so  reported  at  that  time. 
Our  loss  in  that  half-hour  was  nearly  one-third.  One 
stand  of  our  colors,  the  one  whose  staff  was  shot  away  in 
my  hand,  was  missing,  and  the  other  was  badly  torn  by 
shells  and  bullets. 


131 


CHAPTER   XI 


WHY    FREDERICKSBURG   WAS   LOST 

I  PROMISED  to  give  my  convictions  relative  to  the 
responsibility  for  the  disaster  of  Fredericksburg,  and  I 
might  as  well  do  it  here. 

Recalling  the  fact  heretofore  stated  that  we  seemed  to 
have  been  thrown  against  Marye's  Heights  to  be  sacri 
ficed;  that  we  were  not  ordered  to  charge  their  works, 
but  to  advance  and  maintain  a  line  of  battle-fire  where 
such  a  thing  was  absolutely  impossible,  I  come  to  the  in 
quiry,  what  was  the  character  and  purpose  of  the  move 
ment  and  why  did  it  fail  ?  So  thoroughly  impressed  was 
I  that  there  was  something  radically  wrong  about  it,  that 
I  determined  to  solve  that  question  if  possible,  and  so 
made  a  study  of  the  subject  at  that  time  and  later  after 
my  return  home.  I  had  personal  friends  in  the  First  and 
Sixth  Corps,  which  had  operated  on  the  extreme  left,  and 
I  discussed  with  them  the  movements  that  day.  Finally, 
after  my  return  home,  I  got  access  to  Covode's  con 
gressional  reports  on  the  conduct  of  the  war  covering  that 
campaign,  and  from  all  these  sources  learned  what  I  then 
and  now  believe  to  be  substantially  the  facts  about  that 
campaign.  The  army  was  divided  into  three  grand  divi 
sions,  composed  of  two  army  corps  each,  namely,  the  Sec 
ond  and  Ninth,  the  right  grand  division,  commanded  by 
Sumner;  the  First  and  Sixth,  the  left  grand  division, 

132 


Why  Fredericksburg  was  Lost 

commanded  by  Franklin,  and  the  Third  and  Fifth,  the 
centre,  commanded  by  Hooker.  The  plan  of  battle  was  to 
hold  Lee's  army  at  Fredericksburg  by  a  "  feint  in  force" 
(which  means  an  attack  sufficiently  strong  to  deceive  the 
enemy  into  the  belief  that  it  is  the  real  or  main  attack)  at 
that  point,  whilst  the  left  grand  division  was  to  throw  a 
pontoon  bridge  across  the  river  three  miles  below  and  turn 
his  flank  (i.e.,  get  behind  them)  in  the  rear  of  Marye's 
Heights.  For  this  purpose  the  left  grand  division  was  to 
advance  and  attack  vigorously.  If  successful,  Lee  would 
then  have  been  between  Franklin's  forces  on  the  left  and 
our  own  on  the  right,  with  every  possibility  of  being 
crushed.  Hooker  was  to  hold  his  division  in  readiness  to 
support  either  wing.  Had  this  plan  been  carried  out, 
our  work  at  the  right  would,  at  its  conception,  have  been 
as  it  appeared  to  be,  a  mad  sacrifice  of  men,  but  with  an 
opportunity  later  on  of  pushing  forward  and  reaping  a 
victory.  In  that  event,  our  position  would  have  made 
us  a  tremendous  factor  in  the  result. 

Now  how  was  the  plan  carried  out?  The  student  will 
be  puzzled  on  finding  such  a  paucity  of  records  concerning 
this  disastrous  movement.  The  official  documents  are 
remarkable  for  what  they  do  not  contain.  A  study  of 
Covode's  reports  on  the  conduct  of  the  war  will,  I  think, 
justify  my  conclusions,  viz.,  that  the  disaster  of  Fred 
ericksburg  was  due  not  to  accident,  nor  to  a  faulty  plan 
of  battle,  but  to  a  failure  of  the  left  grand  division  to  per 
form  the  vital  part  assigned  to  it.  My  information  gained 
at  the  time  was  that  Franklin  was  to  remain  concealed 
until  the  signal  for  our  attack  came ;  then  he  was  to  cross 
over  and  attack  vigorously,  a  military  expression,  mean- 

133 


War  from  the  Inside 

ing  to  put  all  possible  vigor  and  power  into  the  movement. 
The  signal  was  given  as  our  attack  began.  Whatever 
force  may  have  crossed  the  river  at  that  time,  my  informa 
tion  was  that  the  division  known  as  the  Pennsylvania 
Reserve,  now  numbering  probably  not  more  than  six 
thousand  men,  under  General  Meade,  was  the  only  body 
of  troops  which  made  a  determined  attack  on  Lee's  right, 
in  support  of  our  work  in  front  of  Marye's  Heights. 
Realizing  the  opportunity,  General  Meade  pushed  forward 
with  his  usual  vigor  and,  though  meeting  strenuous  oppo 
sition,  soon  found  himself  well  in  Lee's  rear,  but  without 
support.  He  sent  back  aide  after  aide  to  hurry  forward  ' 
the  supporting  lines,  but  without  avail,  finally  galloping 
back  himself.  He  found  General  Birney  resting  near  the 
bridge  with  his  division.  An  eye-witness  *  to  Meade's 
interview  with  Birney  says  the  language  of  General 
Meade  as  he  upbraided  Birney  for  not  coming  to  his 
support  was  enough  to  "  almost  make  the  stones  creep;" 
that  Meade  was  almost  wild  with  rage  as  he  saw  the 
golden  opportunity  slipping  away  and  the  slaughter  of  his 
men  going  for  naught.  He  said  Birney  responded  that  he 
agreed  with  General  Meade  fully,  and  was  ready  and 
most  anxious  to  come  to  his  support,  but  that  his  orders 


*  This  eye-witness  was  Captain  Haviland,  Company  G,  One  Hun 
dred  and  Forty-second  Pennsylvania  Volunteers,  whose  regiment 
was  attached  to  the  Pennsylvania  Reserves,  and  which  lost  in  that 
charge  two  hundred  and  forty-three  men  killed  and  wounded.  Cap 
tain  Haviland  had  been  wounded,  and  was  making  his  way  with 
Major  John  Bradley,  also  wounded,  to  the  hospital.  They  hap 
pened  to  be  passing  Birney's  head-quarters  when  Meade  rode  up, 
and  heard  the  whole  interview. 

134 


Why  Fredericksburg  was  Lost 

were  peremptory  to  await  further  orders  in  his  present 
position :  that  he  had  been  for  an  hour  trying  to  find 
General  Franklin  to  obtain  permission  to  move  forward. 
This  loss  of  time  and  want  of  support  to  Meade's  charge 
changed  a  possible  victory  into  a  fearful  disaster.  This 
was  substantially  the  testimony  of  Major-General  Reyn 
olds,  commanding  the  First  Corps,  before  the  Committee 
on  the  Conduct  of  the  War.  Burnside  rode  down  to  the 
left  and  vigorously  expostulated  with  Franklin  for  his 
failure  to  carry  out  his  orders,  and  peremptorily  ordered 
him  to  make  the  attack  as  originally  directed,  whilst  he 
repeated  the  movement  at  the  right.  It  was  now  con 
siderably  after  noon,  and  this  order  was  undoubtedly  a 
mistake.  The  plan  of  battle  had  been  revealed,  and  there 
was  practically  no  hope  of  success.  Had  the  left  grand 
division  vigorously  performed  its  part  in  the  earlier  move 
ment,  can  any  one  doubt  the  result?  I  cannot  think  so. 
Had  Meade,  Reynolds,  or  Hancock  been  in  command  on 
the  left  that  day,  I  feel  confident  that  Fredericksburg 
would  have  been  recorded  a  glorious  victory  instead  of 
a  horrible  slaughter. 

Now,  why  did  the  left  grand  division  fail  to  make  the 
attack  as  ordered?  Halleck,  in  his  report  on  the  opera 
tions  at  Fredericksburg,  says  "  alleged  misunderstanding 
of  orders."  Here  is  his  language : 

"  It  was  intended  that  Franklin's  grand  division,  con 
sisting  of  the  corps  of  Reynolds  (First)  and  Smith 
(Sixth),  should  attack  the  enemy's  right  and  turn  his  po 
sition  on  the  heights  in  the  rear  of  Fredericksburg,  while 
Sumner  and  Hooker  attacked  him  in  front.  But  by  some 
alleged  misunderstanding  of  orders  Franklin's  operations 

135 


War  from  the  Inside 

were  limited  to  a  mere  reconnoissance,  and  the  direct 
attacks  of  Sumner  and  Hooker  were  unsupported." 
"  Rebellion  Records,"  vol.  xxi.,  page  47. 

Is  the  theory  of  a  misunderstanding  of  orders  tenable  ? 
The  records  show  that  on  the  nth  of  December,  two 
days  before  the  battle,  Burnside  ordered  his  division  com 
manders  to  so  dispose  their  troops  as  to  bring  them  within 
easy  reach  of  Fredericksburg,  and  that  on  that  day  at 
twelve  o'clock  noon  these  officers  were  ordered  to  meet 
him  personally  at  his  head-quarters  for  final  instructions. 
There  are  no  records  of  what  those  instructions  were,  but. 
is  it  credible  that  either  general  retired  from  that  con 
ference  with  a  misunderstanding  as  to  the  plan  of  battle  or 
of  his  own  part  in  it?  Certain  it  is  that  neither  Sumner 
nor  Hooker  misunderstood.  , 

And  the  excuse  said  to  have  been  made  by  Franklin, 
that  he  did  not  deem  the  attack  on  the  left  practicable,  is 
not  consistent  with  the  idea  of  misunderstanding.  Other 
wise,  why  did  he  attack  at  all  ?  General  Halleck's  guarded 
language  clearly  indicates  where  he  placed  the  respon 
sibility  for  that  disaster,  and  that  he  did  not  credit  the 
"  misunderstanding  of  orders"  theory.  It  is  plainly  evi 
dent  Burnside  did  not  accept  that  excuse,  as  appears  from 
his  celebrated  Order  No.  8,  issued  a  month  later,  relieving 
Franklin,  Smith,  Newton,  Cochran,  and  Ferrero,  and 
stating  as  his  reason  that  "  it  being  evident  that  these 
officers  can  be  of  no  further  service  to  this  army,"- — the 
first  named  being  the  commander  of  the  left  grand  di 
vision,  the  second  the  commander  of  the  Sixth  Corps,  and 
the  others  subordinate  commanders  in  that  wing  of  the 
army.  General  Burnside  explained  to  the  Committee 

136 


Why  Fredericksburg  was  Lost 

on  the  Conduct  of  the  War  *  that  in  asking  the  Presi 
dent  to  approve  this  order,  and  making  that  a  condi 
tion  upon  which  he  would  consent  to  remain  at  the  head 
of  the  army,  he  had  explicitly  stated,  "  that  was  the 
only  condition  on  which  he  could  command  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac."  In  other  words,  he  could  not  command 
that  army  with  those  officers  as  his  subordinates.  The 
inference  that  there  had  been  insubordination  is  inevitable. 
It  was  the  current  belief  amongst  us  officers  of  the  army 
that  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg  had  been  lost  through  a 
want  of  hearty  co-operation,  if  not  direct  disobedience  of 
orders,  on  the  part  of  the  officer  commanding  on  the  left 
that  day,  and  some  of  his  subordinates,  and  that  this  was 
due  to  a  spirit  of  jealousy.  McClellan  had  but  recently 
been  removed  from  the  command  of  the  army,  and  the 
officers  relieved  were  strong  personal  friends  and  partisans 
of  the  latter.  Again,  Burnside,  his  successor,  was  alleged 
to  be  junior  in  actual  rank  to  Franklin.  Whether  either 
of  these  facts  supplied  the  motives  for  the  jealousy  which 
lost  that  battle,  if  such  was  true,  the  judgment  day  alone 
will  reveal.  It  is  devoutly  to  be  hoped  that  the  light  of 

*  This  order  was  dated  January  23,  1863,  and  can  be  found 
in  the  Annual  American  Cyclopaedia,  1863,  page  79,  with  a  copious 
extract  from  the  report  of  the  Committee  of  Congress  on  the  Con 
duct  of  the  War.  It  is  there  stated  that  this  order  was  issued  sub 
ject  to  the  President's  approval,  and  was  sent  to  Washington  for 
that  purpose,  General  Burnside  soon  following  and  interviewing  the 
President.  It  is  also  stated  that  it  was  not  approved  and  was  not 
published.  How,  then,  did  I  come  in  possession  of  its  main  features, 
so  as  to  note  them  in  my  diary  at  the  time?  And  how  should  my 
recollection  of  them  be  so  clear,  as  they  certainly  are,  unless  it  had 
been  made  public.  Possibly  the  press  may  have  published  it.  It 
was  certainly  published  in  some  form. 

137 


War  from  the  Inside 

that  day  will  relieve  the  terrible  disaster  of  Fredericksburg 
of  this  awful  shadow,  and  that  nothing  worse  than  a 
"  misunderstanding  of  orders"  was  responsible  for  it. 

That  Order  No.  8  was  disapproved  at  Washington,  and 
General  Burnside  promptly  tendered  his  resignation  of  the 
command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  He  felt  that  he 
had  not  received  and  was  not  likely  to  receive  the  cordial 
and  hearty  support  of  all  his  subordinate  officers,  and 
under  those  circumstances  he  did  not  want  the  respon 
sibility  of  command.  He  expressed  himself  as  anxious 
to  serve  his  country  and  willing  to  work  anywhere  it 
might  please  the  President  to  place  him.  He  was  not 
relieved,  however,  until  a  month  or  so  later.  In  writing 
the  foregoing  I  know  that  many  brave  men  will  take  ex 
ception.  I  would  say,  however,  that  I  have  made  a  some 
what  careful  study  of  the  subject  from  an  absolutely  un 
prejudiced  stand-point,  and  such  are  the  conclusions  I 
reached,  and  they  were  shared  by  many  of  my  fellow-offi 
cers  who  were  in  that  campaign.  The  losses  in  this  battle 
amount  to  nearly  one-third  the  troops  actually  engaged, 
a  most  remarkable  fact,  and  which  stamps  this  engagement 
as  one  of  the  bloodiest  in  all  history.  Burnside  reports 
his  loss  as  twelve  hundred  and  eighty-four  killed  and  nine 
thousand  six  hundred  wounded,  making  a  total  loss,  in 
cluding  the  missing,  of  twelve  thousand  six  hundred  and 
fifty- three.  Of  this  loss  the  right  grand  division  (the 
Second  and  Ninth  Corps)  lost  five  thousand  three  hundred 
and  eleven.  The  left  grand  division,  Franklin's  (First 
and  Sixth  Corps,  which  numbered  considerably  more  than 
the  right  grand  division),  lost  three  thousand  four  hun 
dred  and  sixty-two,  and  most  of  this  was  sustained  in  the 

138 


Why  Fredericksburg  was  Lost 

second  attack  in  the  afternoon.  These  facts  sustain  the 
belief  above  referred  to  in  the  army,  that  the  main  attack 
in  the  morning  on  the  left  was  not  what  it  should  have 
been,  and  was  the  cause  of  the  disaster. 

A  remarkable  fact  connected  with  this  loss  is  the 
great  number  of  wounded  as  compared  with  the  killed. 
Usually  the  former  exceeds  the  latter  in  the  proportion 
of  three  and  four  to  one,  but  at  Fredericksburg  it  was 
nearly  nine  to  one.  How  this  is  to  be  explained  I  never 
understood,  unless  it  be  that  most  of  the  casualties  were 
from  exploding  shells.  The  minute  fragments  of  a  shell 
scatter  very  widely  and  wound,  whilst  there  are  fewer  of 
the  large  pieces  which  kill.  For  example,  the  shell  that 
exploded  in  the  front  of  our  second  company,  as  it  was 
turning  to  enter  the  street  leading  out  towards  Marye's 
Heights,  previously  described,  knocked  out  ten  men,  only 
one  of  whom  was  instantly  killed.  It  is  safe  to  estimate 
that  of  the  nine  thousand  six  hundred  reported  as 
wounded,  one-third  died  or  were  permanently  disabled 
therefrom. 

To  show  how  quickly  troops  can  recover  from  such  a 
shock  as  the  disaster  of  Fredericksburg,  the  Second  Corps 
had  a  grand  review  back  of  Falmouth  the  second  week 
after  the  battle.  Major-General  Edwin  V.  Sumner,  com 
manding  the  right  grand  division,  was  the  reviewing  offi 
cer.  I  have  spoken  before  of  this  distinguished  officer. 
This  was  his  farewell  to  the  Second  Corps,  which  he  had 
long  commanded  and  to  which  he  was  greatly  attached,  a 
sentiment  which  was  most  cordially  reciprocated  by  the 
men.  He  was  now  probably  the  oldest  in  years  of  all  the 
officers  in  the  amy,  yet  still  vigorous,  intrepid,  and  effi- 

139 


War  from  the  Inside 

cient.  He  was  relieved  from  active  command  in  the  field 
and  assigned  to  the  command  of  the  Department  of  the 
Ohio,  but  a  few  months  later  died  peacefully  at  his  home 
in  New  York.  Is  it  not  singular  that  this  old  hero  should 
have  escaped  the  numberless  missiles  of  death  in  all 
the  battles  through  which  he  had  passed,  so  soon  to  suc 
cumb  in  the  quietude  of  retirement  ? 

Our  regiment  had  present  at  this  review  but  few  over 
two  hundred  men,  and  the  other  regiments  were  propor 
tionally  small,  so  that  the  corps  was  scarcely  larger  than 
a  good-sized  division,  yet  it  appeared  in  splendid  condi 
tion.  Its  depleted  numbers  and  battle-scarred  flags  alone 
told  the  story  of  its  recent  experiences.  The  following 
week  our  regiment  was  detailed  for  a  ten-days'  tour  of 
picket  duty,  and  was  encamped  some  distance  above  Fal- 
mouth  in  a  pretty  grove.  This  change  of  service  was  a 
welcome  one  to  the  men  in  many  respects,  for  there  was 
better  foraging  opportunities,  and  there  was  also  consider 
able  excitement  attending  this  service  in  the  presence  of 
the  enemy.  The  Rappahannock  River  was  the  dividing 
line  of  the  two  armies,  and  their  respective  pickets  lined 
its  banks.  At  this  time  the  two  lines  were  kept  as  far  as 
possible  concealed  from  each  other,  though  there  was 
practically  no  picket  firing.  Later  on  the  two  lines  were 
posted  in  full  view  of  each  other,  and  by  agreement  under 
a  "  flag  of  truce"  all  picket  firing  was  strictly  forbidden. 
Thereafter,  although  forbidden,  there  was  more  or  less 
conversation  carried  on  between  the  two  lines. 


140 


CHAPTER   XII 


LOST  COLORS  RECOVERED 

IN  addition  to  our  heavy  loss  of  men  at  Fredericksburg 
was  the  loss  of  our  colors,  the  stand  whose  staff  had 
been  shot  away  in  my  hand  as  described  in  a  former 
chapter. 

It  can  be  well  understood  that  we  felt  very  keenly  the 
loss  of  our  flag,  although  we  knew  that  it  had  been  most 
honorably  lost.  It  was  known  to  have  been  brought  off 
the  field  in  the  night  by  Corporal  William  I.  D.  Parks, 
Company  H,  one  of  the  color-guard,  who  was  mortally 
wounded,  and  left  by  him  in  a  church  used  as  a  temporary 
hospital.  Corporal  Parks  was  removed  to  a  hospital  at 
Washington,  where  he  died  shortly  afterwards,  and  the 
colors  mysteriously  disappeared.  The  act  of  this  color- 
bearer  in  crawling  off  the  field  with  his  colors,  wounded  as 
he  was  to  the  death,  was  a  deed  of  heroism  that  has  few 
parallels.  We  made  every  effort  to  find  the  flag,  but  with 
out  success,  and  had  concluded  that  it  must  have  been  left 
in  Fredericksburg,  and  so  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy,  when  a  couple  of  weeks  after  the  battle,  on  return 
ing  from  a  ride  down  to  Falmouth,  I  noticed  a  regiment 
of  our  troops  having  dress  parade.  I  rode  near  them, 
and  my  attention  was  at  once  attracted  to  the  fact  that 
they  paraded  three  stands  of  colors,  a  most  unusual  cir 
cumstance.  My  suspicion  was  at  once  aroused  that  here 

141 


War  from  the  Inside 

were  our  lost  colors.  Riding  closer,  my  joy  was  great 
on  recognizing  our  number  and  letters  on  their  bullet-  and 
shell-tattered  folds,  "  132  P.  V."  Anger  immediately  suc 
ceeded  my  joy  as  I  saw  that  our  precious  colors  were 
being  paraded  as  a  sort  of  trophy.  This  flag,  under  whose 
folds  so  many  of  our  brave  men  had  fallen,  and  which 
had  been  so  heroically  rescued  from  the  field,  exhibited 
to  the  army  and  the  world  as  a  trophy  of  the  battle  by 
another  regiment !  It  was,  in  effect,  a  public  proclamation 
of  our  cowardice  and  dishonor  and  of  their  prowess  in 
possessing  what  we  had  failed  to  hold  and  guard,  our 
sacred  colors.  It  stung  me  to  the  quick.  I  do  not  re 
member  ever  to  have  been  more  beside  myself  with  anger. 
It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  contained  myself  until  their 
ceremony  was  over,  when  I  rode  up  to  the  colonel,  in  the 
presence  of  all  his  officers,  and  in  a  voice  which  must 
have  betrayed  my  emotion,  demanded  to  know  why  he 
was  parading  our  colors.  His  reply  was,  "  Those  are 

the  colors  of  a  d d  runaway  regiment  which  my  men 

picked  up  on  the  battle-field  of  Fredericksburg."  My 
hair  and  whiskers  were  somewhat  hot  in  color  those  days, 
and  I  have  not  kept  a  record  of  my  language  to  that 
colonel  for  the  next  few  minutes.  I  sincerely  hope  the 
recording  angel  has  not.  Still,  I  am  sure  it  was  the  ex 
plosion  of  a  righteous  indignation. 

Full  of  wrath  I  galloped  at  topmost  speed  to  camp  and 
made  known  my  discovery  to  Colonel  Albright.  If  I 
was  "  hot,"  what  shall  be  said  of  him  ?  Of  a  fiery,  mer 
curial  disposition,  his  temper  flew  in  a  moment.  He 
mounted  his  horse  and  bade  me  lead  him  to  this  regi 
ment.  The  brave  heralds  who  carried  "  the  good  news 

142 


Lost  Colors  Recovered 

from  Ghent  to  Aix,"  did  not  gallop  faster  than  did  we 
two,  and  the  wicked  fellow  who  was  hired  to  say  two 
dollars'  worth  of  "  words'5  for  the  Quaker  did  not  do  his 
work  a  bit  more  effectively  than  did  my  brave  colonel  in 
denouncing  the  man  who  had  made  that  charge  of  cow 
ardice  against  our  regiment.  Well,  he  began  to  hedge  im 
mediately.  He  evidently  saw  that  there  was  trouble 
ahead,  and  offered  to  give  us  the  colors  at  once,  but 
Colonel  Albright  peremptorily  refused  to  accept  them  that 
way,  and  said  he  would  demand  a  court  of  inquiry  and 
would  require  full  and  complete  vindication,  cost  what  it 
might.  A  court  of  inquiry  was  at  once  asked  for  and 
granted.  It  was  made  up  of  officers  outside  of  our  divi 
sion,  and  was  directed  to  investigate  the  loss  of  our  flag, 
and  how  it  came  into  the  possession  of  this  other  regiment. 
Colonel  Albright  was  a  good  lawyer  and  conducted  his 
own  case  before  the  court.  It  came  out  in  the  investiga 
tion  that  in  making  his  report  of  the  part  his  regiment 
took  in  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg  this  colonel  had  used 
substantially  the  same  language  he  had  to  me  concerning 
how  he  came  into  possession  of  the  flag.  Here  is  the 
paragraph  referring  to  our  colors,  taken  from  his  report 
printed  in  the  "  Rebellion  Records,"  vol.  xxi.,  page  275 : 
"  I  would  also  state  that  some  cowardly  members  of  a 
regiment  unknown  (?)  abandoned  their  colors,  which 
were  recovered  by  Captain  Northrup,  of  my  regiment,  and 
saved  the  disgrace  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy." 
My  diary  notes  that  I  interviewed  this  Captain  Northrup, 
and  he  promptly  stated  that  he  took  the  colors  from  the 
hospital  and  brought  them  with  him  when  their  regiment 
left  Fredericksburg.  He  said  he  did  not  know  how  they 

143 


War  from  the  Inside 

got  into  the  hospital,  but  supposed  a  wounded  sergeant 
had  left  them  there.  He  disclaimed  any  idea  of  their  hav 
ing  been  abandoned  in  a  cowardly  manner,  and  could  not 
understand  why  his  colonel  had  made  such  a  declaration. 
The  statement  that  his  men  rescued  them  from  an  un 
known  regiment  was  false  upon  its  face,  for  our  name 
was  inscribed  on  its  folds  in  plain  letters,  "  i$2d  P.  V." 
Why  he  made  such  a  statement,  and  why  he  treated  the 
colors  as  he  did,  I  could  never  understand,  for  had  the 
statement  been  true  it  was  outrageously  unmilitary  to  pro 
claim  to  the  world  the  cowardice  of  one  of  our  own  regi 
ments.  It  was  his  duty  to  promptly  send  the  colors  to 
head-quarters,  with  a  statement  of  the  facts,  so  that  the 
alleged  runaways  could  be  properly  disciplined.  As  it 
was,  it  seemed  a  most  contemptible  effort  to  secure  a 
little  cheap,  unearned  glory.  It  was  heartlessly  cruel  and 
unworthy  of  a  brave  soldier. 

The  result  of  the  court  of  inquiry  was  a  full  and  com 
plete  vindication  of  our  regiment,  as  shown  by  the  fol 
lowing  paragraph  from  an  order  issued  by  Major-General 
O.  O.  Howard,  commanding  the  Second  Corps :  "  The 
last  color-bearer,  badly  wounded,  left  his  regiment  after 
dark,  and  in  the  town  entered  a  church  used  as  a  hospital, 
taking  his  colors  with  him.  He  was  carried  away  from 
this  place  and  the  colors  left  behind.  The  very  fidelity  of 
the  color-bearer  holding  to  his  colors  as  long  as  he  was 
conscious  was  the  occasion  of  their  loss  to  the  regiment. 
Not  only  no  fault  should  be  found  with  this  regiment,  but 
it  should  receive  unqualified  commendation." 

General  French,  commanding  our  division,  published 
this  order  to  the  division,  adding  the  following :  "  As  the 

144 


Lost  Colors  Recovered 

commander  of  the  division,  and  knowing  the  character 
of  the  One  Hundred  and  Thirty-second  Pennsylvania 
Volunteers,  which  has  fought  under  my  eye  in  two  of  the 
bloodiest  engagements  of  the  war,  and  which  has  the 
highest  encomiums  from  its  brigade  commander,  General 
Kimball,  who  knows  what  brave  men  are,  I  have  deemed 
it  my  duty  to  make  this  record  to  go  with  whatever  may 
have  transpired  in  reference  to  this  subject  during  my 
short  absence."  The  above  paragraphs  were  taken  from 
Bates's  "History  of  Pennsylvania  Volunteers."  The 
colors  were  ordered  returned  to  us  with  proper  military 
honors.  They  were  brought  to  General  French's  head 
quarters  by  a  military  escort  from  that  regiment,  and  I 
had  the  satisfaction  of  officially  receiving  them  with  a  like 
escort  from  our  regiment,  commanded  by  First  Lieutenant 
J.  D.  Laciar,  of  Company  G.  The  ceremony  was  to  us  a 
joyous  and  impressive  occasion.  It  took  place  in  the 
presence  of  General  Alfred  Sully,  temporarily  command 
ing  the  division,  and  staff,  and  our  brigade  officers.  The 
two  escorts  were  drawn  up,  facing  each  other.  The  order 
of  Major-General  Howard,  above  referred  to,  was  read. 
This  was  followed  by  a  little  speech  from  General  Sully, 
in  which  we  came  in  for  some  more  praise;  then  both 
escorts  presented  arms,  whilst  their  color-bearer  trans 
ferred  the  colors  to  ours,  and  the  ceremony  was  over.  A 
happier  escort  never  marched  than  was  ours  bearing  home 
those  restored  colors. 

The  weather  was  now  getting  very  cold,  and  we  set 

about  making  ourselves  as  comfortable  as  possible  in 

camp.    The  men  were  allowed  to  fix  up  their  tents  as  best 

they  could  without  much  regard  for  architectural  beauty 

10  145 


War  from  the  Inside 

or  regularity.  Some  of  them  dug  cellars  four  to  five  feet 
deep,  made  puncheon  floors, — that  is,  floors  made  of  split 
logs  smoothed  off  and  laid  the  flat  side  up, — whilst  the 
sides  were  made  of  logs  plastered  up  with  mud.  Mud 
fireplaces  were  made  with  old  barrels  for  chimneys.  The 
roofs  were  canvas,  of  course,  but  fairly  waterproof.  A 
favorite  bit  of  horse-play  of  the  men  at  this  time  was  to 
watch  when  the  occupants  of  some  tent  were  having  a 
good  time,  and  smoke  them  out  by  throwing  a  wet  blanket 
over  the  top  of  their  barrel  chimney.  In  about  a  second 
the  smoke  would  be  almost  dense  enough  to  suffocate,  and 
every  fellow  would  pile  out  and  hunt  for  the  culprit.  Woe 
be  unto  him  if  they  found  him.  A  favorite  ruse  on  the 
part  of  the  culprit  was  to  plunge  into  his  tent  and  be 
placidly  snoring  when  the  victims  began  their  hunt. 
Sometimes  the  simulation  would  be  too  sonorous,  and 
give  him  away,  and  then  he  had  trouble  on  hand  for  the 
next  hour.  The  ingenuity  of  these  sons  of  Belial  in  their 
pranks  was  beyond  description.  I  have  laughed  until 
absolutely  exhausted  many  a  time.  How  did  I  know  so 
much  about  them?  Well,  I  had  two  of  the  liveliest  of 
these  boys  in  my  office  as  clerks,  and,  as  they  were  gen 
erally  in  the  fun,  I  was  kept  posted,  and  to  tell  the  truth, 
as  long  as  it  did  not  seriously  transgress,  and  there  was 
fun  in  it,  I  knew  nothing  about  it  "  officially."  Often 
have  I  seen  these  boys  put  up  a  job  on  some  fellow  quietly 
sleeping,  by  smoking  out  his  next-door  neighbors  and 
then  directing  their  attention  to  him  as  the  culprit.  To 
see  him  hauled  out  of  a  sound  sleep  and  mauled  for  some 
thing  he  was  entirely  innocent  of,  vehemently  protesting 
his  innocence,  yet  the  more  he  protested  getting  the  more 

146 


Lost  Colors  Recovered 

punishment,  the  rascals  who  put  up  the  job  doing  most 
of  the  punishing,  I  have  nearly  split  my  sides.  Of  course, 
no  one  was  seriously  hurt.  The  victim  knew  enough  to 
keep  his  temper,  and  in  the  end  enjoyed  the  lark  as  well 
as  the  rest.  I  speak  of  these  things,  for  they  were  the 
oases  in  army  life  and  drudgery.  Except  for  them  it 
would  have  been  unendurable.  Seldom  were  things  so 
bad  but  that  some  bit  of  raillery  would  relieve  the  strain 
and  get  up  a  laugh,  and  everybody  would  feel  better. 

We  had  a  young  fellow  in  one  of  the  companies  who 
was  certainly  the  most  comical  genius  I  ever  saw.  He 
was  known  by  a  nickname  only.  No  length  of  march  and 
no  severity  of  service  could  curb  his  spirits.  When  all 
were  down  in  the  dumps  this  fellow  would  perform  some 
monkey-shine  that  would  make  even  a  horse  laugh,  and  all 
would  be  in  good  spirits  again.  Colonel  Albright  used  to 
say  he  was  worth  his  weight  in  gold.  He  was  with  us 
until  after  Fredericksburg,  where  he  was  either  killed  or 
wounded,  and  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  him  after 
wards. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  men's  winter-quarters.  We  offi 
cers  had  our  wall  tents,  and  had  them  fixed  up  with 
puncheon  floors  also,  and  sheet-iron  stoves,  so  that  as 
long  as  we  kept  a  fire  burning  all  were  fairly  comfortable. 
But  wood  fires  would  last  but  an  hour  or  so  without  re 
plenishing,  and  so  during  the  night  we  had  great  difficulty 
in  keeping  warm.  Some  of  the  coldest  nights  my  clerks 
and  myself  took  turns  in  keeping  up  our  fire.  I  rather 
prided  myself  on  the  construction  of  my  bed.  It  was  made 
of  two  springy  poles  held  in  place  by  crotched  sticks  driven 
into  the  ground.  On  the  poles  nailed  crosswise  was  a 


War  from  the  Inside 

bottom  made  of  barrel-staves,  the  hollow  side  down,  and 
on  these  was  laid  a  bed  of  hay,  kept  in  place  by  some 
old  canvas  sacking.  On  cold  nights  the  only  article  of 
clothing  we  took  off  was  our  shoes  or  boots.  Then  rolling 
ourselves  in  our  blankets,  with  gum  blanket  outside  tucked 
well  around  our  feet  and  the  whole  surmounted  with  our 
overcoats,  we  managed  to  sleep  pretty  well.  These 
puncheon  floors  were  all  the  proceeds  of  foraging.  No 
lumber  of  any  kind  was  furnished  by  the  government. 
The  men  cut  the  trees  and  split  the  logs  wherever  they 
could  find  them.  Most  of  them  were  "  backed"  into  camp 
anywhere  from  one  to  four  miles. 

After  this  little  of  note  occurred  in  camp  until  Christ 
mas.  We  had  made  ourselves  as  comfortable  as  we  could 
with  the  materials  at  hand,  which  were  not  in  super 
abundance.  The  weather  was  what  we  were  told  was 
characteristic  of  Virginia  winters, — rather  mild,  slush  and 
mud,  with  its  raw,  disagreeable  dampness,  being  the  pre 
vailing  conditions.  It  was  exceedingly  trying  to  our  men, 
and  many,  in  consequence,  were  on  the  sick  list.  My  diary 
notes  that  on  Christmas  day  we  actually  had  a  little  sun 
shine,  and  that  by  way  of  adding  good  cheer  to  the  occa 
sion  a  ration  of  whiskey  was  issued  to  the  men.  The 
ration  consisted  of  a  gill  for  each  man.  Each  company 
was  marched  to  the  commissary  tent,  and  every  man  re 
ceived  his  gill  in  his  cup  or  drank  it  from  the  measure, 
as  he  preferred.  Some  of  the  men,  who  evidently  were 
familiar  with  the  intricacies  of  repeating  in  ward  elections, 
managed  in  various  ways  to  repeat  their  rations  of  this 
vile  stuff  until  we  had  a  good  deal  more  than  a  gill  of 
whiskey's  worth  of  hilarity  in  camp.  However,  the  noise 

148 


Lost  Colors  Recovered 

was  winked  at,  believing  it  would  soon  subside  and  pass 
off.  All  drills  were  suspended  and  the  men  were  allowed 
passes  freely  out  of  camp,  being  required  to  be  in  quar 
ters  promptly  at  taps.  The  officers  passed  the  day  visiting 
and  exchanging  the  compliments  of  the  season.  The  wish 
for  a  "  Merry  Christmas"  was  about  all  there  was  to 
make  it  such.  I  remember  our  bill  of  fare  for  Christmas 
dinner  consisted  of  boiled  rice  and  molasses,  "  Lobskous" 
and  stewed  dried  apples.  The  etymology  of  the  euphoni 
ous  word  "  Lobskous"  I  am  unable  to  give.  The  dish 
consisted  of  hardtack  broken  up  and  thoroughly  soaked 
in  water,  then  fried  in  pork  fat.  I  trust  my  readers  will 
preserve  the  recipe  for  a  side  dish  next  Christmas.  One 
of  the  boys,  to  show  his  appreciation  of  this  extra  fare 
for  Christmas  dinner,  improvised  the  following  blessing : 

"  Good  Lord  of  love 
Look  down  from  above 
And  see  how  a  soldier's  grub  has  mended, — 

Slushed  rice,  Lobskous,  and  shoat, 
Where  only  hardtack  and  hog  were  intended." 

The  day  was  not  without  its  fun,  however.  Among 
other  things,  an  impromptu  foot-race  was  gotten  up  be 
tween  the  Fourth  New  York  and  our  regiment.  The  for 
mer  regiment,  with  which  we  were  now  brigaded,  was 
from  New  York  City,  and  in  its  general  make-up  was 
decidedly  "  sporty."  They  had  in  their  ranks  specimens 
of  almost  all  kinds  of  sports,  such  as  professional  boxers, 
wrestlers,  fencers,  and  runners.  One  of  the  latter  had 
been  practising  in  the  morning,  and  some  of  our  boys  had 
remarked  that  "  he  wasn't  much  of  a  runner,"  whereupon 
they  were  promptly  challenged  to  produce  a  man  who 

149 


War  from  the  Inside 

could  beat  him,  for  a  cash  prize  of  twenty  dollars  in  gold. 
Win  or  lose,  our  fellows  were  not  to  be  bluffed,  and  so 
promptly  accepted  the  challenge.  Back  they  came  to  camp 
with  their  "  bluff,"  to  look  up  a  man  to  meet  this  pro 
fessional.  So  far  as  our  men  were  concerned,  it  was 
another  case  of  the  Philistine  defying  the  armies  of  Israel. 
Where  was  our  David?  All  hands  entered  into  the  fun, 
from  the  colonel  down.  The  race  was  to  be  a  one- 
hundred-yard  dash  from  a  standing  mark.  We  found  our 
man  in  Corporal  Riley  Tanner,  of  Company  I.  He  was 
a  lithe,  wiry  fellow,  a  great  favorite  in  his  company,  and^ 
in  some  trial  sprints  easily  showed  himself  superior  to  all 
of  the  others.  He,  however,  had  never  run  a  race,  except 
in  boys'  play,  and  was  not  up  on  the  professional  tactics 
of  such  a  contest.  It  was  decided  that  the  affair  should 
take  place  at  five  o'clock  P.M.,  on  our  regimental  front, 
and  should  decide  the  championship  of  the  two  regiments 
in  this  particular.  The  course  was  duly  measured  and 
staked  off,  and  was  lined  on  both  sides  by  a  solid  wall  of 
the  men,  nearly  our  whole  division  being  present,  in 
cluding  most  of  the  officers.  If  the  championship  of  the 
world  had  been  at  stake,  there  could  hardly  have  been 
more  excitement,  so  much  zest  did  every  one  put  into  it. 
On  the  minute  the  Goliath  of  the  bloody  Fourth  appeared, 
clad  in  the  most  approved  racing  garb.  He  was  a  stockily 
built  young  Irishman,  and  looked  decidedly  formidable, 
especially  when  our  poor  little  David  appeared  a  moment 
later,  with  no  other  preparation  than  his  coat  and  cap  off 
and  pants  rolled  up.  Nevertheless,  our  boys  thoroughly 
believed  in  him,  and  we  all  gave  him  a  rousing  cheer. 
The  signal  was  given  and  away  leaped  cur  little  champion 

150 


Lost  Colors  Recovered 

like  a  frightened  deer,  literally  running  away  from  the 
professional  from  the  start  and  beating  him  leisurely  in 
the  end  by  more  than  a  dozen  feet.  Great  was  the  furore 
which  followed.  The  victor  was  carried  on  the  shoulders 
of  his  comrades  of  Company  I  triumphantly  back  to  his 
quarters,  and  afterwards  through  all  the  company  streets, 
the  victim  of  an  immense  popularity.  Corporal  Tanner, 
scarcely  beyond  his  teens,  was  a  good,  brave,  and  true 
young  man,  popular  with  his  comrades  and  faithful  in 
all  his  duties.  Was  this  little  race,  so  short  and  gloriously 
won,  prophetic  of  his  life's  brief  course?  He  came  home 
to  survive  but  a  few  years,  and  then  die  of  injuries  re 
ceived  in  the  service.  He  was  as  much  a  sacrifice  upon 
the  altar  of  his  country  as  if  he  had  been  killed  in  battle. 
He  was  long  ago  laid  to  rest  in  a  soldier's  grave.  But 
he  still  lives  in  the  hearts  of  his  comrades. 

Here  let  me  say  a  few  words  of  our  "  friends,  the 
enemy,"  we  had  just  beaten,  the  Fourth  New  York.  Its 
colonel  was  a  Scotchman  named  McGregor,  and  he  was  a 
true  McGregor,  a  splendid  officer.  He  was  in  command 
of  the  brigade  after  Colonel  Andrews  was  wounded  at 
Fredericksburg,  until  himself  disabled  by  a  wound.  His 
lieutenant-colonel  was  a  captain  in  the  New  York  police 
force  when  he  entered  the  service,  and  after  the  war  as 
Inspector  Jameson  he  achieved  a  national  reputation.  He 
was  a  splendid  fellow  personally,  and  physically  a  king 
among  men.  He  stood  six  feet  two  inches,  beautifully 
proportioned,  square,  and  straight  as  an  Indian,  with  heavy 
jet  black  hair  and  whiskers,  and  an  eye  that  I  imagine 
could  almost  burn  a  hole  in  a  culprit.  He  could  be  both 
majestic  and  impressive  when  occasion  required,  and  was 

151 


War  from  the  Inside 

more  gifted  in  all  these  things  than  any  man  I  ever  knew. 
The  following  incident  will  illustrate  his  use  of  them.  I 
met  him  in  Washington  whilst  returning  to  my  regiment 
the  day  before  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg.  I  joined  him 
just  before  reaching  the  wharf  where  we  were  to  take  the 
boat.  He  had  been  up  to  Washington  on  a  day's  pass,  all 
any  one  could  then  get,  and  had  for  some  reason  over 
stayed  his  leave.  I  think  he  had  missed  his  boat  the  day 
before.  In  consequence  he  could  not  get  a  pass  through 
the  lines  to  go  back.  I  asked  how  he  expected  to  get 
through  the  provost  guard.  "  Oh,  that's  easy,"  he  said. 
"  Just  watch  me  go  through,"  and  I  did.  There  was  a 
double  guard  at  the  entrance  to  the  boat  and  a  sergeant 
and  lieutenant  examining  all  passes.  Jameson  threw  his 
cape  over  his  shoulders  to  conceal  his  shoulder-straps,  put 
on  one  of  his  majestic  airs,  looked  the  officer  through,  as 
much  as  to  say,  you  do  not  presume  to  question  my  rights 
here,  and  waved  him  and  the  guards  aside,  and  deliber 
ately  stalked  aboard,  as  though  he  commanded  the  army. 
I  came  meekly  along  behind,  pass  in  hand.  The  officer 
had  by  that  time  recovered  himself  sufficiently  to  ejacu 
late,  "  Who  the  h — 1  is  that — general  ?"  I  repeated  the 
ejaculation  to  the  colonel  afterwards  to  his  great  amuse 
ment.  He  was  all  right,  and  on  his  way  to  rejoin  his 
regiment,  where  he  was  wounded  next  day,  splendidly 
doing  his  duty.  Because  he  had  overstayed  his  leave 
twenty-four  hours,  red  tape  would  have  required  him  to 
remain  in  Washington,  submit  to  a  court-martial  or  court 
of  inquiry,  and  probably  after  three  or  four  weeks  be  sent 
back,  duly  excused,  the  country  being  deprived  of  his  ser 
vices  in  the  mean  time. 

152 


Lost  Colors  Recovered 

Well,  to  get  back  to  Christmas.  After  the  foot-race  the 
men  were  given  free  rein  until  ten  o'clock  P.M.,  and  passes 
out  of  camp  were  not  required.  As  the  evening  wore  on, 
it  became  evident  that  John  Barleycorn  had  been  getting 
in  some  extra  work,  from  the  character  of  the  noise  ema 
nating  from  the  company  streets,  and  I  became  somewhat 
nervous  about  it.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Albright's  tent  ad 
joined  mine,  and  I  could  see  that  he  was  becoming  a  little 
exercised  over  this  extra  noise.  The  fear  was  that  we 
might  get  a  peremptory  summons  from  division  head 
quarters  to  "  explain  immediately  the  causes  of  the  un 
usual  noises  emanating  from  our  regiment,  and  why  it  is 
not  suppressed."  Just  about  ten  o'clock  there  was  an 
extra  outburst,  and  I  noticed  Colonel  Albright,  with  sword 
dangling,  pass  rapidly  out  of  his  tent  and  down  towards 
the  company  streets  from  whence  the  noise  came.  I  feared 
trouble,  and  slipped  on  my  boots  and  followed  as  quickly 
as  possible.  But  before  I  reached  the  scene,  the  colonel 
had  drawn  his  sword  and  ordered  all  the  men  to  their 
quarters,  at  the  same  time  striking  right  and  left  with  the 
flat  of  his  sword,  hitting  two  of  the  men.  One  proved  to 
be  a  sergeant  who  was  trying  to  quell  the  noise  and  get 
his  men  into  quarters.  The  latter  resented  the  blow  and 
made  a  sharp  retort  to  the  colonel,  who  immediately  re 
peated  it,  whereupon  the  sergeant  struck  him  a  terrible 
blow  in  the  eye  with  his  fist,  knocking  him  down.  I  got 
there  just  in  time  to  see  the  colonel  fall,  and  immediately 
seized  the  sergeant  and  placed  him  in  arrest.  He  was 
handed  over  to  the  division  provost  guard.  The  colonel 
was  found  to  be  seriously  hurt.  His  eye  swelled  up  and 

153 


War  from  the  Inside 

turned  black  and  gave  him  great  pain  all  night.     And  it 
was  several  days  before  he  recovered  the  use  of  it. 

The  most  serious  thing  about  this  unfortunate  culmina 
tion  of  our  Christmas  festivities  was  not  only  the  breach 
of  discipline,  but  the  present  status  of  this  sergeant.  He 
was  an  exceptionally  good  non-commissioned  officer,  with 
a  splendid  record  in  both  battles  and  in  all  service,  yet  he 
had  now  committed  an  offence  the  punishment  for  which, 
in  time  of  war,  was  death, — viz.,  striking  his  superior 
commissioned  officer.  The  next  day  Colonel  Albright  re 
ported  the  affair  to  General  French,  commanding  the  divi-^ 
sion,  who  promptly  advised  him  to  prefer  charges  against 
the  culprit  and  make  an  example  of  him.  The  matter  was 
generally  discussed  by  both  officers  and  men  in  camp,  and 
although  it  was  felt  that  the  sergeant  had  committed  a 
grave  offence,  yet  that  the  colonel  was  in  a  measure  re 
sponsible  for  it.  The  latter  was  justly  popular  with  all  as 
a  brave  officer  and  good  man,  yet  he  had  been  guilty  him 
self  of  an  offence  which  had  brought  upon  him  the  blow 
he  had  received.  He  had  no  right  to  strike  a  soldier  as  he 
did,  even  with  the  flat  of  his  sword.  Nor  was  it  the 
proper  thing  for  him  to  take  the  place  of  his  "  officer  of 
the  guard"  or  "  officer  of  the  day"  in  enforcing  his  own 
orders  regulating  camp  discipline.  He  should  have  sent 
for  the  latter  and  required  them  to  do  their  duty  in  the 
matter.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  this  was  just  what  the 
officer  of  the  day  was  doing  when  the  colonel  appeared. 
The  colonel  sent  for  me  next  morning,  on  his  return  from 
General  French's  head-quarters,  and  freely  told  me  of  the 
advice  of  the  latter,  and  indicated  his  purpose  to  proceed. 
This  splendid  man  has  long  since  entered  into  rest.  No 

154 


Lost  Colors  Recovered 

truer  man  or  braver  officer  entered  the  service  than  he, 
and  it  has  been  one  of  the  greatest  satisfactions  of  my 
life  that  I  was  able  to  possess  his  confidence  to  the  fullest 
degree.  He  invited  my  views  now  and  he  afterwards 
thanked  me  for  the  service  I  then  rendered  him  by  op 
posing  his  contemplated  action.  He  was  still  suffering 
very  much  from  his  injury  and  was  in  a  poor  mood  to 
brook  opposition.  Nevertheless  I  felt  that  if  he  subjected 
this  man  to  the  possible  results  of  a  court-martial,  later  on 
he  would  never  forgive  himself,  and  I  so  told  him.  I 
reminded  him  of  the  mistake  he  had  made  in  assuming 
the  duties  of  his  "  officer  of  the  day,"  and  of  his  graver 
error,  if  not  offence,  in  striking  the  men ;  that  such  action 
would  be  very  likely  to  produce  similar  results  with  almost 
any  of  the  men  upon  whom  it  might  be  committed ;  that 
he  had  failed  to  respect  the  rights  of  his  men  even  in 
matters  of  discipline,  and  that  all  this  being  true,  it  would 
be  a  mistake  he  would  always  regret  if  he  failed  to  treat 
this  affair  in  as  manly  and  generous  a  way  as  discipline 
would  permit.  It  was  an  occasion  of  keen  regret  that  I 
had  to  differ  with  Colonel  Albright,  for  I  really  loved  the 
man.  He  dismissed  me  rather  cavalierly  with  his  thanks 
for  my  drastic  frankness.  By  his  direction  a  meeting  of 
all  the  officers  of  the  regiment  was  summoned  to  meet  at 
his  head-quarters  in  the  afternoon  to  give  their  views  as 
to  the  course  to  be  pursued.  The  question,  as  submitted 
by  the  colonel  being  one  purely  of  discipline,  seemed  to 
admit  of  but  one  treatment, — viz.,  court-martial ;  and  this 
was  the  unanimous  sentiment  as  expressed  in  this  meeting, 
although  outside,  I  well  knew  nearly  all  had  expressed 
themselves  differently.  Perhaps  the  way  the  colonel  took 

iS5 


War  from  the  Inside 

to  get  their  views  was  partly  responsible  for  his  failure  to 
get  their  real  feelings.  He  began  with  the  youngest  lieu 
tenant  and  asked  each  officer  up  to  the  senior  captain,  what 
he  thought  the  offence  merited.  The  answer  was,  "  I  sup 
pose  court-martial."  None  seemed  willing  to  accuse  the 
colonel  of  his  own  error,  and  to  have  answered  otherwise 
would  have  involved  that,  so  they  simply  replied  as  above. 
The  colonel  said,  after  all  had  given  their  answers,  that 
the  adjutant  did  not  agree  with  him  nor  them,  and  called 
on  me  to  state  my  position,  saying  I  was  to  be  excused,  as 
he  supposed  the  sergeant  was  a  personal  friend.  Whilst 
it  was  true  that  I  had  known  him  at  home,  I  disclaimed 
being  influenced  by  that  fact  in  this  matter.  The  colonel, 
to  my  relief,  adjourned  the  meeting  without  announcing 
his  determination.  I  felt  sure  that  a  little  more  time 
would  bring  him  to  my  way  of  thinking,  and  so  it  turned 
out.  I  saw  the  sergeant  over  at  the  provost-guard  tent, 
and  found  him  very  anxious  about  his  situation  and  thor 
oughly  sorry  for  his  hasty  conduct  towards  the  colonel, 
whom  he  sincerely  respected.  He  said  he  felt  terribly 
hurt  at  being  so  roughly  treated.  He  was  not  to  blame 
for  the  noise,  but  was  actually  doing  his  best  to  quiet  the 
noisy  ones  and  get  them  into  quarters  when  the  first  inti 
mation  he  had  of  the  colonel's  presence  was  the  blow  from 
his  sword.  He  said  this  blow  hurt  him  and  roused  his 
anger  and  he  replied  sharply,  and  on  getting  the  second 
blow  he  struck  without  stopping  to  think  of  the  conse 
quences.  I  told  the  colonel  of  this  conversation,  and  said 
if  he  would  permit  this  man  to  express  to  him  personally 
his  sorrow  for  his  conduct,  and,  under  the  circumstances, 
restore  him  to  duty  with  no  greater  punishment  than  a 

156 


Lost  Colors  Recovered 

loss  of  his  rank  as  sergeant,  I  felt  sure  he  would  win  the 
hearts  of  all  the  men  and  do  an  act  he  would  always  be 
glad  of.  Two  days  later,  to  my  great  joy,  he  ordered  me 
to  prepare  an  order  practically  embodying  my  recommen 
dations,  the  order  to  be  read  at  dress  parade  that  day, 
and  the  prisoner  to  be  publicly  released  at  that  time.  I 
think  I  never  performed  a  more  willing  or  difficult  task 
than  reading  that  order  on  parade  that  afternoon.  Just 
before  the  ceremony,  the  sergeant  had  been  brought  by 
the  provost  guard  to  the  colonel's  tent  and  had,  in  a  manly 
way,  expressed  his  sorrow  for  his  act.  The  colonel  had 
stated  this  fact  to  the  regiment,  and  then  directed  me  to 
read  the  order  releasing  the  prisoner  and  restoring  him  to 
duty.  The  tears  blinded  my  eyes  and  my  emotions  almost 
choked  my  voice  as  I  tried  to  read,  and  I  doubt  if  there 
was  a  dry  eye  in  the  ranks  when  I  had  finished.  The  out 
come  of  the  unfortunate  affair  was  exceedingly  satisfac 
tory.  The  colonel,  always  popular,  had  now  the  hearts  of 
all — officers  and  men. 


CHAPTER   XIII 


THE   WINTER   AT    FALMOUTH 

OUR  brigade  was  now  commanded  by  Lieutenant-Colo 
nel  Marshall,  Tenth  New  York  Volunteers,  who  was  the 
senior  officer  present  for  duty,  Colonels  Kruger,  First 
Delaware,  and  McGregor,  Fourth  New  York,  being  ab 
sent  on  account  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg,  and 
Colonel  Wilcox,  of  our  regiment,  absent,  sick.  I  men 
tion  this  to  show  how  the  exigencies  of  the  service  thrust 
upon  junior  officers  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  much 
higher  grades.  Here  a  lieutenant-colonel  was  discharging 
the  duties  appertaining  to  a  general ;  sergeants  frequently 
commanded  companies,  whilst  a  captain  in  command  of  a 
regiment  was  not  an  infrequent  thing.  These  junior  offi 
cers  performing  the  duties  of  higher  grades  got  no  more 
compensation  than  the  pay  of  their  actual  rank.  On  the 
24th  of  January,  Colonel  Wilcox  sent  in  his  resignation, 
and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Albright  was  commissioned  colo 
nel.  Major  Shreve  was  promoted  to  be  lieutenant-colonel, 
and  I  had  the  honor  to  receive  the  rare  and  handsome 
compliment  of  an  election  to  the  office  of  major,  although, 
being  a  staff-officer,  I  was  not  in  the  regular  line  of  pro 
motion.  Sergeant-Ma j or  Clapp  succeeded  to  my  position 
as  adjutant,  and  Private  Frank  J.  Deemer,  Company  K, 
who  had  been  a  clerk  in  my  office,  was  appointed  sergeant- 
major.  Just  at  this  time  I  had  a  somewhat  singular  ex- 

158 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

perience.  I  had  received  a  three-days'  leave  of  absence 
with  permission  to  visit  Washington  on  business  for  the 
officers.  This  detail  I  mention  because  no  leaves  of  ab 
sence  other  than  for  sickness  or  disability  were  obtainable 
at  this  time,  except  on  urgent  business  for  the  officers  of 
a  regiment,  and  for  but  one  officer  to  a  regiment,  and 
three  days  was  the  limit.  To  get  to  Washington — only 
about  sixty  miles  away — I  had  to  start  from  camp  before 
daylight  in  the  morning,  ride  three  miles  to  the  rail 
road  in  a  heavy,  springless  army  wagon,  across  fields 
and  over  rutted  roadways  that  were  barely  passable, 
the  jolting  of  which  was  almost  enough  to  shake  one's 
bones  loose;  then  ride  twenty  miles  in  a  freight  car, 
perched  on  whatever  truck  one  could  get  a  seat  on,  thence 
by  boat  to  Washington.  The  morning  was  exceptionally 
cold  and  I  had  to  leave  without  breakfast ;  the  result  was 
I  caught  a  severe  cold,  and  when  I  reached  my  destination 
I  was  suffering  terribly  from  an  attack  of  dysentery.  I 
was  barely  able  to  get  to  the  Ebbitt  House,  the  clerk  of 
which  seeing  my  plight  summoned  a  physician,  who  had 
me  sent  to  the  Seminary  Hospital  for  Officers  at  George 
town.  Here  I  received  most  excellent  care. 

This  institution  was  for  officers  only.  There  must  have 
been  upward  of  two  hundred  sick  and  wounded  officers 
there  at  that  time.  It  was  under  strict  military  rules. 
The  surgeon  in  charge  was  its  commanding  officer,  as 
absolute  as  though  a  general  commanding  a  division  in 
the  field.  When  I  reached  the  hospital  I  was  registered, 
put  to  bed,  and  all  clothing  and  personal  effects  taken 
from  me.  A  warm  bath  followed  with  the  assistance  of 
a  stalwart  nurse  and  medicines  were  administered,  and 

159 


War  from  the  Inside 

I  soon  found  relief  in  a  refreshing  sleep.  A  couple  of 
days  later  I  had  a  remarkable  visit.  I  was  not  allowed  to 
sit  up  yet,  but  a  fine-looking  old  gentleman,  wearing  the 
insignia  of  a  major-general,  appeared  at  my  cot  and  ex 
tended  his  hand.  His  face  was  an  exceedingly  kind  one 
and  his  voice,  if  possible,  more  so.  His  hair  was  white 
and  he  had  the  unmistakable  appearance  of  advanced  age, 
though  he  stood  fully  six  feet  high  and  was  still  square 
and  unbent  in  form.  He  proceeded  to  say  he  had  learned 
that  a  young  officer  bearing  the  name  of  Hitchcock  had 
been  taken  suddenly  very  ill  and  sent  to  this  hospital,  and 
inasmuch  as  his  name  was  Hitchcock,  he  was  doubly  in 
terested  to  know,  first  how  I  was,  and  second  who  I  was. 
My  visitor  was  none  other  than  Major-General  Hitchcock, 
military  attache  of  President  Lincoln's  cabinet  and  the 
first  general  commissioner  for  the  exchange  of  prisoners 
of  war.  I  think  he  was  a  retired  regular  army  officer 
called  from  his  retirement  to  special  service  as  military 
adviser  of  the  president  and  now  in  charge  of  the  bureau 
for  the  exchange  of  prisoners  of  war.  His  call  was  very 
pleasant,  and  I  learned  from  him  that  all  of  our  name  in 
this  country  were  distantly  related.  That  two  brothers 
came  to  this  country  with  the  Regicides  and  settled,  one 
in  New  Hampshire,  the  other  at  New  Haven.  He  was 
of  the  former  stock,  whilst  I  was  from  the  latter.  On 
retiring  he  bade  me  call  on  him  when  well.  I  greatly 
regret  I  never  had  the  opportunity  of  returning  his 
gracious  visit.  On  the  cot  next  mine  lay  an  officer  con 
valescing  from  a  wound  received  at  Fredericksburg.  I 
have  forgotten  his  name,  but  we  soon  became  well  ac 
quainted,  and  he  proved  a  valuable  and  companionable 

160 


The  Winter  at  Falrnouth 

acquaintance.  He  was  the  best  posted  man  in  military 
tactics  I  ever  met,  and  was  thoroughly  familiar  with  all  its 
branches  from  the  school  of  the  soldier  to  the  grand  tac 
tics  of  a  division.  It  was  very  profitable  pastime  for  me 
to  go  over  the  tactics  under  his  instruction,  he  illustrating 
each  battalion  movement  by  the  use  of  matches  on  the 
coverlets  of  our  cots.  In  that  way  I  learned  the  various 
tactical  movements  as  I  had  never  been  able  to  do  before, 
and  it  was  of  immense  value  to  me,  having  now  been 
promoted  to  the  position  of  a  field-officer.  This  hospital 
was  no  better  and  in  no  wise  different  from  those  for 
private  soldiers,  except  that  we  were  charged  a  per  diem 
for  board,  whereas  there  was  no  charge  for  the  privates. 
I  thought  I  could  return  at  the  end  of  a  week,  and  asked 
to  be  discharged,  but  was  rather  curtly  informed  by  the 
surgeon  in  charge  that  when  the  time  came  for  my  dis 
charge  he  would  inform  me. 

The  papers  now  contained  rumors  of  another  movement 
on  foot,  and,  of  course,  I  was  very  anxious  to  return.  A 
few  days  later,  after  an  examination,  the  doctor  gave  me 
my  discharge.  It  was  now  ten  days  since  I  had  left  camp 
on  a  three-days'  leave,  but  my  discharge  from  the  hos 
pital  operated  as  an  extension,  and  I  had  no  difficulty  in 
getting  transportation  and  passes  through  the  lines  to 
rejoin  my  regiment.  I  performed  my  errands  for  the 
officers  of  the  regiment,  which  consisted  in  getting  various 
articles  for  their  comfort,  and  in  several  cases  a  bottle  of 
something  to  "  keep  the  cold  out."  As  I  write,  I  have 
before  me,  in  perfect  preservation,  all  the  official  papers 
covering  that  trip.  Here  are  copies  of  the  papers  required 
to  get  back  to  the  regiment.  They  will  give  an  idea  of  the 
ii  161 


War  from  the  Inside 

conditions,  getting  in  and  out  of  Washington  at  that  time, 
as  well  as  of  the  load  I  had  to  carry  back : 

HEAD-QUARTERS  MILITARY  DISTRICT  OF  WASHINGTON, 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C,  January  22,  1863. 

Lieutenant  F.  L.  Hitchcock,  1320!  P.  V.,  with  servant,  has  per 
mission  to  proceed  to  Falmouth,  Va.,  for  the  purpose  of  rejoining 
his  regiment,  and  to  take  the  following  articles  for  officers  and 
men:  (i)  one  drum,  (3)  three  express  packages,  carpet  sack  con 
taining  liquors,  (i)  one  box  of  provisions,  (i)  one  box  of  clothing. 
Quartermaster  please  furnish  transportation. 

By  Command  of  Brigadier-General  Martindale,  Military  Governor 
of  Washington. 

JOHN  P.  SHERBURNE, 

Assistant  Adjutant-General. 
No.  247. 

ASSISTANT-QUARTERMASTER'S  OFFICE,  SIXTH  STREET  WHARF, 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  January  23,  1863. 

Pass  on  government  boat  to  Aquia  Creek,  three  boxes  and  one 
drum,  liquors  and  sutlers'  stores  strictly  excluded. 
For  Adjutant  F.  L.  Hitchcock,  132  Pa.  Vols. 

J.  M.  ROBINSON, 

Captain  and  A.  Q.  M. 

The  word  liquors  above  is  erased  with  a  pen.  It  is 
difficult  at  this  day  to  realize  that  Washington  was  sur 
rounded  with  a  cordon  of  sentries.  All  places  of  entrance 
and  exit  were  under  the  strictest  military  surveillance. 
General  Martindale,  as  its  military  governor,  was  supreme 
in  authority.  No  one  could  come  or  go,  and  nothing  be 
taken  in  or  out,  without  his  permission. 

The  servant  included  in  the  above  pass  was  a  "  con 
traband,"  picked  up  in  Washington  for  the  trip.  There 
were  hundreds  of  them  clamoring  for  an  opportunity 
to  get  down  to  the  army.  They  were  glad  to  do  all 
one's  drudgery  for  the  chance  of  going,  for  once  there, 

162 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

plenty  of  jobs  could  be  found,  besides  the  excitement 
and  attractions  of  "  Uncle  Sam's"  army  were  to  them 
irresistible.  I  reached  camp  early  in  the  evening  and 
delivered  my  supplies,  the  officers  being  promptly  on 
hand  to  receive  them.  The  return  of  an  officer  from 
"  civilization"  was  an  event  of  no  ordinary  moment,  and  I 
had  many  calls  that  evening.  The  following  anecdote  of 
Major-General  Howard  was  told  that  evening,  apropos  of 
the  delivery  of  the  "  commissions"  I  had  brought.  The 
general  was  well  known  to  be  uncompromising  in  his 
opposition  to  the  presence  of  liquor  of  any  kind  in  camp,  or 
elsewhere,  and  especially  among  the  members  of  his 
official  family.  Yet  shortly  after  the  battle  of  Fredericks- 
burg,  one  of  his  staff  had  a  present  of  a  bottle  of  "  old 
Rye."  He  put  it  away  until  some  time  during  the  gen 
eral's  absence  he  could  safely  bring  it  out  and  treat  his 
fellow-members  of  the  staff.  The  opportunity  came  one 
day  when  his  chief  announced  his  absence  at  army  head 
quarters  for  a  couple  of  hours,  and  mounted  and  rode 
away.  The  hidden  treasure  was  brought  out  and  due 
preparation  made  for  the  delectation  of  all  hands,  and  he 
was  in  the  act  of  pulling  the  cork  in  front  of  his  tent,  when, 
suddenly  hearing  the  clatter  of  horse's  hoofs,  he  looked  up 
just  in  time  to  see  the  general  returning  for  a  forgotten 
paper.  He  had  barely  time  to  swing  the  bottle  behind  his 
heels  as  he  closed  them  in  the  position  of  a  soldier,  and 
arose  and  respectfully  saluted.  The  position  and  salute 
were  strictly  according  to  army  regulations,  but  with  a 
general's  own  staff  such  formality  was  not  usual.  The 
general  evidently  caught  the  situation,  for  he  was  tanta- 
lizingly  deliberate  in  acknowledging  the  salute,  and  finally 

163 


War  from  the  Inside 

remarked,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  looking  him  full  in 

the  face :   "  Mr. ,  your  position  is  faultless  and  your 

punctiliousness  in  saluting  truly  admirable.  Were  you 
getting  it  ready  to  send  to  the  hospital?  Very  com 
mendable,  indeed;  it  will  do  so  much  good."  And  to  the 
hospital,  of  course,  it  had  to  go,  much  to  the  chagrin  of 
all  the  staff. 

The  event  of  special  interest  at  this  time  was  the  move 
ment  later  known  as  the  "  mud  march."  Troops  had  for 
three  days  been  moving  up  the  river,  destination,  of 
course,  unknown  to  us,  but  now  they  were  returning,  a, 
most  sorry,  mud-bedraggled  looking  crowd.  We  were 
glad  enough  not  to  have  been  with  them.  Our  corps  had 
been  for  a  week  under  marching  orders,  to  move  at  a 
moment's  notice,  but  the  final  order  never  came,  and  we 
were  spared  this  experience.  Whatever  the  movement 
was  designed  to  be,  it  was  defeated  by  plain,  simple  MUD. 
It  should  be  spelled  in  the  largest  capitals,  for  it  was  all- 
powerful  at  this  time.  Almost  immediately  after  the 
movement  began,  it  commenced  to  rain  heavily.  The 
ground  was  already  soggy  from  previous  rains,  and  it 
soon  became  a  vast  sea  of  mud.  I  have  already  spoken  of 
Virginia  mud.  It  beggars  description.  Your  feet  sink 
into  it  frequently  ankle  deep,  and  you  lift  them  out  with 
a  sough.  In  some  places  it  seemed  as  bottomless  as  a  pit 
of  quicksand.  The  old-established  roads  were  measurably 
passable,  but,  as  I  have  heretofore  explained,  most  of  the 
troops  had  to  march  directly  across  the  fields,  and  here  it 
proved  absolutely  impossible  to  move  the  wagon-trains 
and  artillery  any  distance.  This  was  the  main  reason  why 
the  movement  had  to  be  abandoned.  I  saw  many  wagons 

164 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

down  over  their  hubs,  stalled  in  the  mire.  And  the  guns 
and  caissons  of  a  battery  of  artillery  were  stalled  near  our 
camp,  and  had  to  be  abandoned  for  the  time.  The  horses 
were  saved  from  miring  with  great  difficulty.  A  few  days 
later  the  guns  and  caissons  were  hauled  out  with  ropes. 

There  were  dead  mules  and  mired  and  broken  wagons 
all  along  the  route  of  the  marching  troops.  The  number 
of  animals  that  perished  in  this  futile  march  must  have  run 
up  into  thousands,  killed  by  exposure  over  pulling  or 
miring.  It  should  be  understood  that  when  the  army 
moves,  and  the  mule  trains  of  ammunition  and  rations  are 
ordered  to  move,  they  must  go  as  long  as  it  is  physically 
possible,  mule  or  no  mule.  The  lives  of  a  thousand  mules, 
more  or  less,  is  nothing  compared  with  the  necessity  of 
having  ammunition  and  rations  at  the  proper  place  at  the 
required  time.  I  saw  one  mule  team  stalled  in  one  of  these 
sloughs.  The  heavy  wagon  was  down  so  that  the  box 
was  in  the  mud  and  the  four  mules  were  wallowing  in  a 
death  struggle  to  get  out.  Harness  was  cut  and  they  were 
freed,  all  to  no  purpose.  Their  struggles  had  made  the 
slough  like  a  stiff  pudding,  which  was  apparently  bottom 
less  ;  the  more  they  struggled  the  deeper  they  got.  Finally 
a  chain  was  hooked  about  the  neck  of  one  of  the  leaders 
and  fastened  to  another  wagon  and  the  mule  hauled  out, 
but  with  a  broken  neck.  The  experiment  was  repeated 
in  a  modified  way  with  the  other  leader,  now  over  back 
in  the  mire,  but  with  no  better  results.  The  others  had 
ceased  to  struggle  and  were  slowly  sinking,  and  were  mer 
cifully  killed  and  allowed  to  bury  themselves  in  the  mire, 
which  they  speedily  did.  It  may  be  asked  why  more  civil 
ized  methods  were  not  employed  to  extricate  these  valu- 

165 


War  from  the  Inside 

able  animals.  Why  fence  rails  or  timbers  were  not  placed 
under  them  as  is  usual?  The  answer  is,  there  was  not  a 
fence  rail  nor  anything  of  that  nature  probably  within  ten 
miles.  Everything  of  this  kind  had  long  ago  been  used 
for  fire-wood  for  the  soldiers'  cooking.  And  as  for  tim 
bers  there  probably  was  not  a  stick  nearer  than  Aquia 
Creek,  more  than  ten  miles  away.  Again  it  may  be  won 
dered  why  the  chain  was  not  passed  around  the  mule's 
body  rather  than  his  neck.  Simply  because  the  former 
was  impossible  without  running  the  risk  of  miring  the 
driver  in  the  slough,  and  he  was  not  disposed  to  run  any  ^ 
risk  of  that  kind.  Had  this  been  practicable,  it  is  doubtful 
if  the  result  would  have  been  any  better,  for  without 
padding  the  chains  would  have  killed  or  mangled  the  mule, 
and  there  were  no  means  at  hand  for  that  purpose.  The 
destruction  of  this  class  of  property,  always  very  severe 
under  favorable  circumstances  in  the  army,  was  during 
this  mud  movement  simply  appalling.  The  loss  of  one  or 
more  mules  meant  an  abandonment  of  the  wagon  and  its 
contents  to  the  weather  in  many  instances,  and  the  same 
was  true  where  a  team  was  mired. 

The  rebels  were  evidently  interested  observers  of  this 
mud  march,  for  their  pickets  taunted  ours  with  such  ques 
tions  as  "  How  d'ye  like  Virginia  mud?"  "  Why  don't 
you  'uns  come  over?"  "  How  are  you,  mud?"  etc.,  and 
they  put  up  rude  sign-boards  on  which  were  scrawled  in 
large  letters,  "  Burnside  stuck  in  the  mud !"  "  Burnside's 
name  is  Mud!"  etc. 

The  "  mud  march"  had  evidently  settled  it  that  there 
would  be  no  further  attempt  to  move  until  better  weather 
conditions  prevailed,  which  could  not  reasonably  be  looked 

166 


MAJOR     FREDERICK    L.    HITCHCOCK 

1320   p.  v. 
A  year  later  Colonel  25th  U.  S.  C.  T. 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

for  before  April,  and  so  we  settled  down  for  a  winter 
where  we  were,  back  of  Falmouth.  The  several  corps 
were  spread  out,  occupying  an  area  extending  from  within 
three  miles  of  Fredericksburg,  nearly  down  to  the  Po 
tomac.  Our  corps,  the  Second,  was  located  nearest  to 
the  latter  city,  and  our  picket  lines  covered  its  front  to 
Falmouth  and  some  miles  up  the  river.  Our  division,  the 
Third  (French's),  had  the  line  from  the  railroad  bridge 
at  Fredericksburg  to  Falmouth,  something  over  two  miles. 
Being  now  a  field-officer,  my  name  was  placed  on  the 
roster  of  picket  field-officers  of  the  day.  My  first  detail 
on  this  duty  came  almost  as  soon  as  my  commission.  My 
duties  had  hitherto  been  confined  almost  exclusively  to 
the  staff  or  executive  business  of  the  regiment.  Further 
than  making  the  necessary  details  of  officers  and  men  for 
picket  duty,  I  had  never  had  anything  to  do  with  that 
branch  of  the  service.  I  had,  therefore,  only  a  smattering 
knowledge  of  the  theory  of  this  duty.  It  may  well  be 
judged,  therefore,  that  I  felt  very  keenly  this  lack,  when 
I  received  my  order  to  report  for  duty  as  division  field- 
officer  of  the  day,  the  following  morning.  Here  I  was 
suddenly  confronted  with  the  responsibility  of  the  com 
mand  of  the  picket  forces  covering  the  dividing  line  be 
tween  the  two  hostile  armies.  A  demonstration  of  the 
enemy  was  to  be  looked  for  any  moment,  and  it  was  most 
likely  to  occur  on  our  front.  I  had  hoped  to  have  a  few 
days  to  study  up  and  by  observing  its  practical  work  get 
some  little  idea  of  my  new  duties.  But  here  was  the 
detail,  and  it  must  be  obeyed.  It  should  be  explained  that 
the  picket  line  consists  of  a  cordon  of  sentinels  surround 
ing  the  army,  usually  from  two  to  three  miles  from  its 

167 


War  from  the  Inside 

camp.  Its  purpose  is  to  watch  the  enemy,  and  guard 
against  being  surprised  by  an  attack.  Except  for  this 
picket  line,  the  main  body  of  troops  could  never  sleep  with 
any  degree  of  safety.  To  guard  against  attacks  of  the 
enemy  would  require  it  to  remain  perpetually  under  arms. 
Whereas  with  its  picket  lines  properly  posted  it  may  with 
safety  relax  its  vigilance,  this  duty  being  transferred  to  its 
picket  forces.  This  picket  service  being  a  necessity  of 
all  armies  is  a  recognized  feature  of  civilized  warfare. 
Hence,  hostile  armies  remaining  any  length  of  time  in 
position  near  each  other  usually  make  an  agreement  that 
pickets  shall  not  fire  upon  each  other.  Such  agreement 
remains  in  force  until  a  movement  of  one  or  the  other 
army  commences.  Notice  of  such  a  movement  is,  of 
course,  never  given.  The  other  party  finds  out  the  fact 
as  best  it  can.  Frequently  the  withdrawal  or  conceal 
ment  of  the  picket  line  will  be  its  first  intimation.  Ordi 
narily,  picket  duty  is  not  only  of  the  very  highest  respon 
sibility,  but  an  exceedingly  dangerous  duty.  Until  agree 
ments  to  cease  picket-firing  are  made,  every  sentinel  is 
a  legitimate  target  for  the  sentinels  or  pickets  of  the 
enemy,  hence  extreme  vigilance,  care,  and  nerve  are 
required  in  the  performance  of  this  duty. 

The  picket  line  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy  is  generally 
posted  in  three  lines, — viz.,  First,  the  line  of  sentries; 
second,  the  picket  supports,  about  thirty  yards  in  rear  of 
the  sentries,  and  third,  the  guard  reserves,  about  three 
hundred  yards  farther  in  the  rear,  depending  upon  the 
topography  of  the  country.  Each  body  constitutes  one- 
third  of  the  entire  force,  i.e.,  one-third  is  constantly  on 
duty  as  sentinels,  one-third  as  picket  supports,  and  one- 

168 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

third  as  grand  reserves.  The  changes  are  made  every 
two  hours,  usually,  so  that  each  sentry  serves  two 
hours  on  "  post"  and  four  hours  off.  The  latter  four 
hours  are  spent  half  on  grand  reserve  and  half  as  picket 
supports.  The  supports  are  divided  into  companies,  and 
posted  in  concealed  positions,  near  enough  to  the  sentry 
line  to  be  able  to  give  immediate  support  in  case  of  attack, 
while  the  grand  reserves,  likewise  concealed,  are  held  in 
readiness  to  come  to  the  assistance  of  any  part  of  the 
line.  Ordinarily  this  part  of  the  picket  force  is  able  to 
sleep  during  its  two  hours  of  reserve  service.  The  sup 
ports,  however,  while  resting,  must  remain  alert  and  vigi 
lant.  It  being  the  duty  of  the  picket-line  to  prevent  a  sur 
prise,  it  must  repel  any  sort  of  attack  with  all  its  power. 
In  the  first  instance  the  sentinel  must  promptly  challenge 
any  party  approaching.  The  usual  formula  is :  "  Halt ! 
Who  comes  there?"  The  approaching  party  failing  to 
obey  the  command  to  halt,  it  is  his  duty  to  fire  at  once, 
even  though  he  be  outnumbered  a  hundred  to  one,  and  it 
cost  him  his  life.  Many  a  faithful  sentinel  has  lost  his 
life  in  his  fidelity  to  duty  under  such  circumstances.  For 
although  the  picket  is  there  to  prevent  a  surprise,  the 
attacking  party  is  equally  bent  on  getting  the  advantage 
of  a  surprise,  if  possible,  and  many  are  the  ruses  adopted 
to  capture  sentinels  before  they  can  fire  their  guns.  He 
must  fire  his  gun,  even  though  he  be  captured  or  run 
through  with  a  bayonet  the  next  instant.  This  gives  the 
alarm,  and  the  other  sentries  and  picket  supports  open  fire 
at  once,  and  the  reserves  immediately  join  them,  if  neces 
sary,  to  hold  or  impede  the  progress  of  the  enemy.  It  is 
thus  seen  that  in  case  of  an  attack  the  picket  force  finds 

169 


War  from  the  Inside 

itself  maintaining  a  fight  possibly  against  the  whole  op 
posing  army,  or  whatever  the  attacking  force  may  be. 
Fight  it  must,  cost  whatever  it  may,  so  that  time  may  be 
gained  to  sound  the  "  long  roll"  and  assemble  the  army. 
Many  of  our  picket  fights  were  so  saucy  and  stubborn  that 
the  attacks  were  nipped  in  the  bud,  the  enemy  believing 
the  army  was  there  opposing  them.  In  the  mean  time, 
mounted  orderlies  would  be  despatched  to  army  head 
quarters  with  such  information  of  the  attack  as  the  officer 
of  the  day  was  able  to  give. 

Having  now  given  some  idea  of  picket  service,  I  re 
turn  to  my  own  first  experiences  as  field-officer  of  the 
day.  I  was  fated  to  have  several  rather  singular  experi 
ences  on  that  first  day.  The  first  occurred  in  connection 
with  my  horse.  I  mounted  and  started  for  division  head 
quarters,  about  a  half-mile  away,  in  ample  time  to  reach 
there  a  little  before  the  appointed  time — eight  o'clock, 
but  reaching  the  outer  edge  of  our  camp  my  horse  balked, 
and  in  answer  to  my  efforts  to  move  him  began  to  kick, 
rear,  and  plunge.  He  tried  to  throw  me,  and  did  nearly 
everything  except  roll  over.  Every  time  I  headed  him 
forward,  he  would  wheel  around  and  start  back  for  his 
stable.  I  coaxed  him,  then  tried  the  spur,  all  to  no  pur 
pose.  I  was  losing  valuable  time,  besides  having  a  very 
uncomfortable  kind  of  a  fight  on  hand.  I  realized  I  must 
make  him  obey  me  or  I  could  never  handle  him  again.  An 
orderly  from  General  French  came  galloping  over  with 
the  expected  peremptory  message.  One  minute's  delay 
with  him  was  almost  a  capital  offence.  I  could  only  return 
word  that  I  was  doing  my  best  to  get  there.  The  general 
and  his  staff  then  rode  over  to  see  my  performance.  He 

170 


-:• 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

reassured  me  with  the  remark,  "Stick  to  him  and  make 
him  obey  you,  or  kill  him."  Well,  it  took  just  about  one 
hour  to  conquer  him,  at  the  end  of  which  time  I  had 
ploughed  up  several  acres  of  ground,  my  horse  was  in  a 
white  lather,  and  I  was  in  the  same  condition.  When  he 
quit,  he  did  so  at  once,  and  went  on  as  cleverly  as  though 
nothing  had  happened.  The  cause  of  this  freak  I  never 
understood,  he  never  having  done  so  before,  and  never 
did  again. 

May  I  digress  long  enough  to  speak  a  little  more  of  this 
remarkable  horse.  Dr.  Holland  says  there  is  always  hope 
for  any  man  who  has  heart  enough  to  love  a  good  horse. 
Army  life  was  well  calculated  to  develop  the  sterling  quali 
ties  of  both  man  and  beast.  Hence,  I  suppose  every  man 
who  had  a  good  horse  could  safely  regard  him  as  "  most 
remarkable."  How  many  such  have  I  heard  cavalrymen 
talk  about,  descanting  on  the  "remarkable"  qualities  of 
their  half-human  favorites,  whilst  the  tears  wet  their 
cheeks.  I  had  named  this  splendid  animal  "  Don  Fulano," 
after  that  superb  horse  in  Winthrop's  "  John  Brent,"  not 
because  he  was  a  magnificent  black  charger,  etc. ;  on  the 
contrary,  in  many  respects  he  was  the  opposite  of  the  origi 
nal  Don  Fulano.  Raised  upon  an  unromantic  farm  near 
Scranton,  an  unattractive  yellow  bay,  rather  too  heavy 
limbed  and  too  stockily  built  to  be  called  handsome,  yet 
powerful,  courageous, . intelligent  (he  could  almost  talk), 
high  spirited,  with  a  heavy,  shaggy  mane  and  forelock, 
through  which  gleamed  a  pair  of  keen,  fierce  eyes,  he  had 
many  of  the  qualities  which  distinguished  his  noble  proto 
type.  He  had  not  the  high  honor  to  die  carrying  a  slave  to 
liberty,  but  when  the  final  accounts  come  to  be  squared  up 

171 


War  from  the  Inside 

in  the  horses'  heaven,  it  is  possible  that  the  credit  of 
having  passed  unflinchingly  through  the  battles  of  Fred- 
ericksburg  and  Chancellorsville,  and  of  having  safely  car 
ried  a  wounded  soldier  off  each  field  may  prove  to  be  a 
little  something  in  favor  of  my  splendid  "  Don."  As  a 
saddler,  he  came  to  me  practically  unbroken.  He  was  sold 
from  the  farm  because  he  would  jump  all  fences,  yet  under 
the  saddle,  when  I  took  him,  he  would  not  jump  the  small 
est  obstacle.  This  is  really  as  much  of  an  art  on  the  part 
of  the  rider  as  with  the  horse.  An  unskilled  rider  is  liable 
to  seriously  injure  both  the  horse  and  himself  in  jumping. 
If  he  is  unsteady,  the  motion  of  the  horse  as  he  rises 
to  make  his  leap  is  liable  to  pitch  him  over  his  head.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  he  clings  back,  a  dead  weight  in  his 
saddle,  he  is  liable  to  throw  the  horse  backward.  I  have 
seen  both  done.  The  secret  of  successful  jumping  is  to 
give  the  horse  his  head  as  he  rises,  feel  your  knees  against 
his  sides  firmly,  rising  with  him  as  he  rises  and  be  again 
in  your  seat  before  his  feet  reach  the  ground.  This 
helps  him  and  saves  both  a  killing  jounce.  I  finally  trained 
him  so  that  as  a  jumper  he  was  without  a  peer  in  our 
part  of  the  army.  I  have  had  the  men  hold  a  pole  fully 
a  foot  higher  than  my  head,  as  I  stood  on  the  ground,  and 
have  jumped  him  back  and  forth  over  it  as  readily  as  cats 
and  dogs  are  taught  to  jump  over  one's  arm.  And  the 
men  insisted  that  he  cleared  the  pole  at  least  a  foot  each 
jump. 

This  jumping  of  horses  was  considered  quite  an  accom 
plishment  in  the  army,  it  being  often  a  necessity  on  the 
march  in  getting  over  obstacles.  One  day  I  saw  our 
general's  son,  a  young  West  Pointer,  attached  to  his 

172 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

father's  staff,  trying  to  force  his  Kentucky  thoroughbred 
to  jump  a  creek  that  ran  past  division  head-quarters.  The 
creek  was  probably  ten  to  twelve  feet  wide  and,  like  all 
Virginia  creeks,  its  banks  seemed  cut  vertically  through 
the  soil  and  the  water  at  the  edges  was  about  a  foot  deep. 
After  repeated  trials  the  best  the  young  man's  horse  could 
do  was  to  get  his  forefeet  on  the  opposite  bank.  His 
hindfeet  always  landed  in  the  water.  Mr.  West  Pointer 
was  way  above  noticing  in  any  way  a  poor  volunteer 
plebeian  like  myself  mounted  on  an  old  plug  like  Don. 
But  Don  had  taken  in  the  situation  as  well  as  I,  and  when 
I  said,  "  Come,  Don,  let's  us  try  it,"  he  just  gathered 
himself  and  sailed  over  that  creek  like  a  bird,  landing 
easily  a  couple  of  feet  on  the  other  side,  and  swung  around 
for  another  try.  The  young  fellow  gathered  up  his  thor 
oughbred  and  with  an  oath  of  disgust  retired.  Don  and 
I  became  great  friends,  and  after  our  fight,  above  men 
tioned,  in  all  our  practice  jumping  or  on  the  march,  or 
riding  about,  I  never  had  occasion  to  use  the  spur, — 
indeed,  I  seldom  wore  one.  A  simple  "  Come,  Don,"  and 
he  was  quick  to  obey  my  every  wish.  He  was  kind  and 
tractable  with  others,  but  it  was  a  singular  fact  that,  as  for 
jumping  or  any  other  favors,  he  would  do  nothing  for 
anybody  but  me,  not  even  for  my  man  who  took  care  of 
him.  Others,  including  horse-trainers,  repeatedly  asked 
to  try  him,  thinking  they  could  improve  his  work,  but 
he  drew  the  line  on  all;  not  even  a  little  jump  would 
he  make  for  any  of  them.  I  had  been  jumping  him,  one 
day,  to  the  delight  and  admiration  of  the  men.  Among 
them  was  a  horse-trainer  of  the  Fourth  New  York,  who 
asked  the  privilege  of  trying  him.  He  mounted  and 

173 


War  from  the  Inside 

brought  him  cantering  up  to  the  pole  as  though  he  was 
going  over  all  right,  but  instead  of  making  the  leap  he 
suddenly  whirled,  almost  dumping  the  trainer,  to  the  in 
finite  amusement  of  the  men;  nor  could  he  induce  him 
to  make  the  leap.  I  mounted  again  and  he  went  over, 
back  and  forth,  without  the  slightest  hesitation.  I  brought 
him  home  from  the  war,  and  it  was  a  great  grief  to  me 
that  I  was  unable  to  keep  him  as  long  as  he  lived.  I 
secured  him  a  good  home,  where  he  lived  to  a  dignified 
old  age.  One  of  my  household  gods  is  a  photograph  of 
Don  and  myself,  with  a  section  of  the  camp  of  Hancock'^ 
division  of  the  Second  Corps  for  a  background,  taken  at 
this  time,  whilst  we  lay  back  of  Falmouth. 

My  second  adventure  that  first  day  on  picket  duty 
occurred  shortly  after  I  reached  the  head-quarters  of  the 
picket  at  the  Lacey  House,  directly  opposite  the  city 
of  Fredericksburg.  I  had  seen  the  new  line  posted  and 
the  old  line  relieved,  when  a  grizzly  bearded  old  gentle 
man  rode  up  and  inquired  for  the  "  Officer  of  the  day." 
His  dress  was  exceedingly  plain.  He  wore  a  much-bat 
tered  slouch  hat  down  over  his  eyes,  and  on  the  shoulders 
of  his  blouse,  scarcely  discernible,  was  what  had  been  the 
silver  stars  of  a  brigadier-general.  I  answered  his  inquiry 
by  saluting,  and  then  recognized  General  Alfred  Sully, 
long  famed  as  an  Indian  fighter  before  the  war.  He  intro 
duced  himself  as  "  Corps  officer  of  the  day"  and  my 
superior  officer  for  this  tour  of  picket  duty.  The  peculiar 
thing  about  his  presence  was  his  treatment  of  me.  He 
evidently  saw  that  he  had  a  greenhorn  on  hand,  for  the 
first  question  he  fired  at  me  was,  "  How  many  times  have 
you  served  as  picket  officer  of  the  day?"  I  candidly  re- 

174 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 


plied  that  this  was  my  first  experience.  '  Your  knowl 
edge  of  the  duties  of  officer  of  the  day  is  somewhat 
limited?"  I  admitted  the  fact.  "  That  is  all  right,"  said 
he  with  a  pleasant  smile.  "  You  are  just  the  man  I  want. 
You  shall  remain  with  me  all  day,  and  I  will  teach  you 
all  there  is  about  it."  I  shall  never  forget  that  day's 
experience  with  this  splendid  old  officer.  I  rode  with 
him  over  the  whole  corps  line  in  the  morning,  and  after 
that  he  made  his  head-quarters  at  the  Lacey  House  with 
me.  Our  division  front,  said  he,  is  where  an  attack  is 
most  to  be  looked  for,  and  then  he  went  over  it  carefully 
with  me,  pointing  out  the  most  probable  points  of  attack 
and  how  they  should  be  met;  what  to  do  at  this  point 
and  that,  and  so  on,  in  a  most  intelligent  and  entertaining 
manner  gave  me  the  practical  idea  of  a  picket  defence, 
out  of  his  long  and  ample  experience  as  a  regular  army 
officer.  It  was  just  what  I  needed  and  was  of  the  greatest 
value  to  me.  It  was  practical  experience  under  a  superb 
instructor.  If  all  the  regular  army  officers  I  came  in 
contact  with  had  been  as  kind  and  considerate  as  this 
superb  Indian  fighter,  I  should  have  been  equally  grateful. 
Unfortunately,  this  was  not  the  case.  My  experience  in 
this  respect  may  have  been  exceptional,  but  the  instance 
above  narrated  is  the  one  solitary  case  in  which  my  duties 
brought  me  in  contact  with  regular  army  officers  that  I 
did  not  receive  a  rebuff,  frequently  most  brutal  and  in 
sulting.  Doubtless  the  lack  of  knowledge  of  army  cus 
toms  and  routine  on  the  part  of  us  volunteer  officers  was 
calculated  to  try  their  patience,  for  they  occupied  all  the 
higher  executive  staff  positions,  and  routine  business  of 
all  kinds  had  to  pass  their  scrutiny. 

175 


War  from  the  Inside 

But  what  were  they  given  West  Point  education  and 
training  at  the  public  expense  for  if  not  to  impart  it  to 
those  who  should  be  called  to  fill  volunteer  positions  in 
times  of  the  country's  need?  And  how  should  a  volun 
teer,  called  into  the  service  of  his  country  without  a  par 
ticle  of  military  education,  be  expected  to  understand  the 
interminable  routine  of  army  red  tape?  I  will  dismiss 
this  digression  with  a  single  instance  of  my  experience  in 
seeking  information  from  one  of  the  younger  West  Point 
ers.  It  occurred  while  I  was  still  adjutant  and  shortly 
before  my  promotion.  Some  special  detailed  report  was 
called  for.  There  were  so  many  of  these  wanted,  with 
so  many  minute  and  intricate  details,  that  I  cannot  re 
member  what  this  particular  one  was,  but  they  were 
enough  almost  to  drive  a  man  to  drink.  This  one,  I 
remember,  utterly  stumped  me,  and  I  rode  over  to  Captain 
Mason,  assistant  adjutant-general  of  our  brigade,  a  thor 
oughly  competent  officer,  for  information.  He  looked  at 
it  a  moment,  then  said :  "  It  beats  me ;  but  go  down  to 

corps  head-auarters  and  you  will  find  Lieutenant , 

a  regular  army  officer,  whose  business  it  is  to  give  just 
such  information  as  you  require."  I  rode  there  at  once 

and  inquired  for  Lieutenant  ,  as  directed.     The 

reply  was,  "  Here  he  is.  What  in  h — 1  do  you  want?" 
Not  specially  reassured  by  this  inquiry,  I  handed  him 
the  paper  and  made  known  my  wishes  for  information. 
He  literally  threw  it  back  at  me  with  the  reply,  "  Go  to 
h — 1  and  find  out."  I  replied  that  from  his  manner  of 
speech  I  appeared  to  be  pretty  near  there  now.  I  went 
back  to  Captain  Mason  and  recounted  my  experience,  to 
his  intense  disgust,  but  that  was  all  that  ever  came  of  it. 

176 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

We  volunteers  learned  to  avoid  a  regular  officer,  espe 
cially  of  the  young  West  Point  type,  as  we  would  a 
pestilence. 

Returning  now  to  my  picket  duties  of  that  day,  a  third 
incident  occurred  in  the  afternoon.  The  captain  of  the 
picket  came  into  our  office  at  the  Lacey  House  with  the 
information  that  there  was  a  hail  from  the  opposite  bank 
of  the  river  with  a  flag  of  truce — a  small  white  flag.  We 
all  rushed  out,  and  General  Sully  directed  the  captain  to 
take  a  corporal's  guard — a  corporal  and  four  men — from 
his  reserve,  and  go  down  to  the  water's  edge  under  a  like 
flag  and  inquire  what  was  wanted.  This  formality,  he 
said,  was  necessary  to  properly  recognize  their  flag  of 
truce,  and  to  guard  against  a  possible  fake  or  bit  of 
treachery.  The  reply  from  the  other  side  was  that  a 
young  woman  in  Fredericksburg  was  exceedingly  de 
sirous  of  reaching  her  home  some  distance  within  the 
Union  lines,  and  would  the  Union  commander  receive  a 
communication  upon  the  subject.  General  Sully  replied 
that  he  would  receive  their  communication  and  forward 
it  to  head-quarters,  whereupon  an  orderly  was  sent  over 
in  a  boat  with  the  communication.  He  was  unarmed,  as 
were  those  who  rowed  him  over.  The  letter  was  de 
spatched  to  army  head-quarters,  whilst  the  orderly  and  his 
boatmen  were  detained  at  the  landing  under  guard  of  our 
detail.  They  sat  down  and  in  an  entirely  easy  and  friendly 
way  chatted  with  our  guard.  One  would  not  have 
believed  that  these  men  would  shed  each  other's  blood 
instantly  the  little  white  flag  was  lowered.  Yet  such  was 
the  fact.  A  half-hour  brought  a  reply  to  the  communica 
tion.  We,  of  course,  saw  neither  their  letter  nor  the 
12  177 


War  from  the  Inside 

reply,  but  my  lady  was  immediately  brought  over  and 
escorted  by  a  mounted  guard  to  army  head-quarters,  an 
ambulance  being  utilized  for  the  purpose.  She  was  really 
a  very  pretty  young  woman,  and  evidently  a  thorough 
lady,  though  a  spirit  of  hauteur  made  it  apparent  she  was 
a  Southerner  through  and  through.  She  maintained  a 
perfect  composure  during  the  formality  of  her  reception 
into  our  lines,  for  the  officer  from  the  rebel  lines  who 
escorted  her  required  a  receipt  from  the  officer  who  had 
been  sent  down  from  head-quarters  to  receive  her;  and 
the  appearance  of  a  pretty  woman  in  our  lines  was  so 
unusual  an  event  that  Uncle  Sam's  boys  may  have  been 
pardoned  if  they  were  all  anxious  to  get  a  square  view  of 
the  charming  vision.  This  receipt  had  to  be  made  in 
duplicate,  one  for  each  army,  both  officers,  as  well  as  the 
young  woman,  attesting  it  with  their  signatures.  General 
Sully  more  than  half  suspected  she  was  a  rebel  spy.  If 
she  was,  they  wisely  chose  a  beauty  for  the  work. 


178 


CHAPTER   XIV 


THE    WINTER   AT    FALMOUTH CONTINUED 

DURING  the  remainder  of  the  winter  at  Falmouth,  I  was 
on  as  field-officer  of  the  day  about  every  fifth  day,  so  that 
I  was  much  of  the  time  at  the  Lacey  House,  and  on 
the  picket-line  described  in  the  foregoing  chapter.  The 
scenes  here  enacted  constituted  my  chief  experience  at 
this  time.  The  Lacey  House  was  famous  during  the  war 
as  being  the  head-quarters  of  either  the  picket  lines 
between  the  two  armies  or  of  commanding  officers  of 
portions  of  both  so  frequently  that  it  deserves  more  than 
a  passing  notice.  It  was  a  large  old-time  brick  mansion, 
beautifully  situated  on  the  bank  of  the  Rappahannock, 
just  opposite  Fredericksburg,  and  was,  at  the  outbreak  of 
the  war,  the  private  residence  of  Colonel  Lacey,  who  was 
at  the  time  I  write  a  colonel  in  the  rebel  army.  The  house 
was  very  large;  its  rooms  almost  palatial  in  size,  had 
been  finished  in  richly  carved  hardwood  panels  and  wain 
scoting,  mostly  polished  mahogany.  They  were  now 
denuded  of  nearly  all  such  elegant  wood-work.  The 
latter,  with  much  of  the  carved  furniture,  had  been  appro 
priated  for  firewood.  Pretty  expensive  fuel?  Yes,  but 
not  nearly  so  expensive  as  the  discomfort  of  staying  there 
without  a  fire,  with  the  temperature  just  above  the 
freezing-point,  and  your  feet  and  body  wet  through  from 
the  rain  and  slush  of  the  storm  outside,  in  which  you  were 


War  from  the  Inside 

doing  picket  duty.  The  only  other  fuel  obtainable  was  a 
few  soggy  green  logs ;  whether  these  had  been  cut  from 
the  old  shade  trees  surrounding  its  ample  grounds  or  not 
I  do  not  know.  I  more  than  suspect  they  had.  but  the 
only  way  they  could  be  made  to  burn  in  the  old-fashioned 
open  fireplaces  was  to  assist  the  flames  with  an  occasional 
piece  of  dry  wood,  the  supply  of  which,  as  long  as  it 
lasted,  was  from  the  panels,  wainscoting,  and  furniture 
of  the  house.  Later  on  the  interior  doors,  all  of  heavy > 
elegant  hardwood  and  finished  in  keeping  with  the  other 
appointments  of  the  place,  had  to  go.  This  may  seem  at 
this  distance  as  vandalism  pure  and  simple.  But  if  the 
would-be  critic  will  place  himself  in  the  shoes  of  the 
soldier  doing  picket  duty  that  winter,  with  all  its  hard 
ships,  and  then  remember  that  Colonel  Lacey,  the  owner 
of  the  place,  was  not  only  in  active  rebellion  against  the 
government  we  were  fighting  to  maintain,  but  was  a 
colonel  commanding  a  rebel  regiment  as  a  part  of  that 
great  rebel  army  encamped  not  a  rifle-shot  away,  which 
made  it  necessary  for  us  to  do  this  picket  duty,  he  may 
reach  the  same  conclusion  as  did  our  men,  that  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  freeze  ourselves  in  order  to  preserve  this 
rebel's  property.  The  large  and  ample  grounds  had  been 
laid  out  with  all  the  artistic  care  a  landscape  gardener 
could  bestow  upon  them.  Rare  plants,  shrubs,  and  trees 
from  all  over  the  world  had  been  transplanted  here  in 
great  variety.  They  were  now  feeling  the  bitter  blight 
of  war.  Army  wagons  arid  artillery  had  made  sad  havoc 
of  the  beautiful  grounds,  and  such  of  the  rare  trees  and 
shrubbery  as  interfered  with  a  good  vision  of  the  opera 
tions  of  the  rebels  in  and  around  Fredericksburg  had 

180 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

been  ruthlessly  removed,  and  this  included  the  larger  part 
of  them. 

The  Christian  Commission  had  its  head-quarters  in  one 
wing  of  the  house  during  this  winter.  It  was  presided 
over  by  Mrs.  John  Harris,  of  Philadelphia,  a  most  benevo 
lent  and  amiable  elderly  lady.  She  was  assisted  by  two 
or  three  young  women,  among  whom  was  a  daughter  of 
Justice  Grier,  of  the  United  States  Supreme  Court.  These 
ladies  were  engaged  in  distributing  supplies  of  various 
kinds,  furnished  by  this  association,  to  the  sick  and 
wounded  soldiers  in  the  various  hospitals.  They  had  an 
ambulance  at  their  disposal,  and  one  or  two  orderlies 
detailed  to  assist  them.  Their  work  was  most  gracious 
and  helpful,  and  they  were  entitled  to  the  greatest  credit 
for  their  hard  and  self-sacrificing  labors.  The  red  flag  of 
the  hospital  floated  over  them,  and  such  protection  as  it 
afforded  they  had ;  but  it  may  be  well  understood  that  this 
location  between  two  hostile  armies,  with  active  hostilities 
likely  to  be  resumed  any  moment,  and  in  the  midst  of  a 
picket  force  keenly  on  the  alert  night  and  day,  was  not 
likely  to  be  selected  as  a  sanitarium  for  cases  of  nervous 
prostration.  The  men  on  picket  had  reason  to  remember 
Mrs.  Harris,  for  those  located  at  the  Lacey  House  daily 
partook  of  her  bounty  in  the  way  of  hot  coffee,  and  fre 
quently  a  dish  of  good  hot  soup ;  and  the  officers  stationed 
there,  usually  three  or  four,  were  regularly  invited  to  her 
table  for  all  meals.  These  invitations  were  sure  to  be 
accepted,  for  they  afforded  an  opportunity  for  a  partially 
civilized  meal.  Her  meals  were  always  preceded  by  a 
"  grace"  said  by  herself,  while  breakfast  was  followed  by 
a  worship  service,  at  which  a  chapter  from  the  Bible  was 

181 


War  from  the  Inside 

read  and  prayer  offered  by  her.  These  prayers  I  shall 
never  forget — their  sweet  fervency,  in  which  the  soldiers 
came  in  for  a  large  share  of  her  earnest  requests.  This 
large-hearted,  motherly  little  woman  made  a  host  of 
friends  among  the  boys  in  blue  that  winter.  But  her 
motherly  kindness  was  occasionally  taken  advantage  of 
by  some  of  those  sons  of  Belial.  One  of  them  told  this 
story  of  his  former  tour  of  duty :  The  weather  was  beastly 
uncomfortable,  from  rain  and  snow  making  a  slush  and 
mud,  through  which  they  had  tramped  until  thoroughly 
soaked.  They  concluded  they  must  have  some  hot  whis-* 
key  punch.  Mother  Harris,  they  knew,  had  all  the  neces 
sary  ingredients,  but  how  to  get  them  was  the  question. 
One  of  them  feigned  a  sudden  attack  of  colic,  and  was 
all  doubled  up  on  the  floor,  groaning  piteously.  Mother 
Harris  was  told  of  it.  Of  course,  she  rushed  in  to  render 
assistance.  In  reply  to  her  inquiries,  the  rascal  could 
think  of  but  one  thing  that  would  help  him,  and  that  was 
whiskey.  A  bottle  was  instantly  produced,  and  a  dose 
administered  which  gave  partial  relief;  and  now  if  he 
only  had  some  hot  water  he  was  sure  it  would  relieve  him. 
A  pitcher  of  steaming  hot  water  was  immediately  sent  in. 
Then  it  was  found  that  the  strong  liquor  nauseated  him, 
and  one  of  the  other  scamps  suggested  that  perhaps  a 
lemon  would  relieve  that,  and  a  nice  lemon  was  instantly 
produced.  They  had  plenty  of  sugar  themselves,  and  so 
from  good  Mother  Harris's  benevolent  provision  for  the 
colic  these  rascals  deliberately  brewed  a  pitcher  full  of 
excellent  hot  whiskey  punch.  They  had  to  invent  a  num 
ber  of  additional  lies  to  keep  her  out  of  the  room,  but 
they  were  equal  to  it.  She  sent  her  orderlies  in,  one  after 

182 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

the  other,  to  inquire  how  the  patient  was  progressing, 
and  the  boys  secured  a  proper  message  back  by  letting 
them  in  for  a  swig.  I  hope  the  good  old  lady  never  dis 
covered  the  fraud.  I  am  sure  she  would  not  have  believed 
anybody  who  might  have  undertaken  to  enlighten  her, 
for  her  confidence  in  her  "  boys  in  blue"  was  so 
unbounded. 

Almost  every  tour  of  picket  duty  revealed  some  new 
incident.  Our  pickets  were  now  posted  in  full  view  of 
those  of  the  enemy,  and  the  river  was  so  narrow  that  con 
versation  between  the  pickets  could  be  carried  on  without 
difficulty.  Peremptory  orders  were  issued  forbidding  our 
pickets  from  replying,  or  in  any  manner  communicating 
with  them,  but  it  required  the  greatest  care  and  vigilance 
on  the  part  of  all  the  officers  of  the  picket  to  enforce  this 
order.  One  of  their  sentries  would  hail  one  of  ours  with 
some  friendly  remark,  and  it  was  difficult  to  suppress  the 
desire  to  reply.  If  a  reply  was  not  forthcoming,  a  nagging 
ejaculation,  calculated  to  provoke,  would  follow,  such  as, 
"  What's  the  matter,  Yank,  are  ye  deaf?"  "  Maybe  ye 
are  afeared  o'  those  d — d  officers."  "  We  'uns  don't  give 
a  d —  for  our  officers,"  and  so  volley  after  volley  would 
follow,  whilst  poor  Yank  had  to  continue  silently  walking 
his  beat.  Sometimes  the  "  Johnny"  would  wind  up  with 
a  blast  of  oaths  at  his  silent  auditor.  Frequently  our  men 
would  reply  if  they  thought  no  officer  was  near  to  hear; 
they  seemed  to  feel  that  it  was  only  decent  to  be  cour 
teous  to  them.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  there  was  a  strong 
disposition  to  fraternize  whenever  opportunity  offered  on 
the  part  of  the  men  of  both  sides.  This  was  manifested 
daily  on  this  picket-line,  not  only  in  talk  across  the  river, 

183 


War  from  the  Inside 

but  in  communication  by  means  of  miniature  boats.  Our 
men  were  generally  short  of  tobacco,  and  the  Johnnies 
had  an  abundance  of  this  article  of  the  very  best  quality ; 
on  the  other  hand,  our  men  were  "  long"  on  coffee,  of 
which  commodity  they  were  "  short."  So  "  Johnny" 
would  fix  up  a  trade.  "  Say,  Yank,  if  I  send  you  over 
a  boat-load  of  '  backy,'  will  ye  send  her  back  filled  with 
coffee?"  If  he  got  an  affirmative  reply,  which  he  often 
did,  he  would  place  his  little  boat  in  the  stream  with  its 
rudder  so  fastened  that  the  current  would  shoot  it  across 
a  hundred  yards  or  so  further  down.  Yank  would  watch 
his  opportunity,  get  the  boat,  take  out  its  precious  cargo 
of  tobacco,  reload  it  with  coffee,  reverse  the  rudder,  and 
send  it  back  to  "  Johnny,"  who  was  watching  for  it  further 
down  the  stream.  Newspapers  soon  were  called  for  by 
"  Johnny,"  and  became  a  regular  part  of  the  cargo  of 
these  boats,  for  the  rebels  were  wild  to  get  our  papers. 
The  exchange  of  coffee  and  tobacco  was  a  comparatively 
harmless  matter  and  would  probably  have  been  winked 
at,  but  the  sending  of  our  Northern  papers  into  their  line, 
containing  news  of  every  movement  of  our  forces,  was 
a  thing  that  must  be  prohibited.  A  large  part  of  the 
special  instructions  of  all  picket  officers  related  to  the 
suppression  of  this  traffic.  Scarcely  a  day  passed  that  we 
did  not  confiscate  one  or  more  of  these  boats.  The 
tobacco  our  men  were  allowed  to  take,  but  the  boat  and 
all  rebel  newspapers  had  to  be  sent  to  army  head-quarters. 
Some  of  these  miniature  boats  were  marvels  of  beauty, 
and  showed  mechanical  skill  in  construction  of  the  highest 
order.  Others  were  rude  "  dugouts."  They  were  gen 
erally  about  thirty  inches  long,  six  to  ten  inches  wide, 

184 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

and  about  six  inches  deep.  They  were  therefore  capable 
of  holding  quite  a  quantity.  It  was  a  traffic  very  difficult 
to  suppress,  for  our  men  wanted  the  tobacco  and  were 
unwilling  to  take  that  without  sending  back  the  proper 
quid  pro  quo.  I  doubt  if  it  was  ever  altogether  stopped 
that  winter.  The  desire  for  tobacco  on  the  part  of  our 
men  was  so  great  that  they  would  break  over,  and  some 
of  the  subordinate  officers  participated  in  it.  These  ex 
changes  generally  took  place  in  the  very  early  dawn,  when 
the  officer  of  the  day  and  the  officers  of  the  picket  were 
not  supposed  to  be  around.  The  officer  of  the  day  was 
required  to  make  the  "  rounds"  of  his  picket-line  once 
after  midnight,  and  then  if  everything  was  all  right  he 
could  rest,  his  officers  of  the  picket  being  responsible  to 
him  for  their  respective  sections  of  the  line.  What  is 
known  in  army  regulations  as  the  "  grand  rounds,"  a 
ceremonial  visiting  of  the  line  by  the  officer  of  the  day, 
accompanied  by  a  sergeant  and  detail,  was  omitted  on 
the  picket-line  as  too  noisy  and  ostentatious.  In  its  place 
the  officer  of  the  day  went  over  his  line  as  quietly  as 
possible,  assuring  himself  that  each  man  was  in  his  proper 
place  and  was  alert  and  doing  his  duty. 

The  sleepy  time  was  from  two  o'clock  A.M.  until  day 
light,  and  this  was  the  time  I  found  it  necessary  to  be  on 
the  line.  It  took  from  two  to  four  hours  to  get  over  the 
entire  line  and  visit  every  sentry.  The  line,  as  I  have 
stated  heretofore,  extended  from  the  railroad  bridge  at 
Fredericksburg  to  the  village  of  Falmouth,  a  distance  of 
two  and  a  half  to  three  miles.  In  the  daytime  I  could 
ride  over  it  comfortably,  but  in  the  night  I  had  to  take  it 
on  foot.  When  these  were  dark  as  ink,  and  rainy,  and 

185 


War  from  the  Inside 

the  ground  was  slushy  and  muddy,  as  it  usually  was  at 
that  time,  it  was  not  a  very  agreeable  duty.  However, 
my  duty  was  so  much  lighter  than  that  of  the  men  (who, 
though  they  were  only  two  hours  on  post  at  a  time, 
were  out  in  the  storm  all  the  while),  that  I  could  not 
complain.  The  fidelity  of  our  men  to  duty  under  these 
trying  circumstances  was  most  remarkable.  Twice  only 
that  winter  did  I  find  a  man  sleeping  on  post.  In  both  of 
these  cases  the  delinquent  was  scarcely  more  than  a  boy, 
who  I  really  believed  told  the  truth  when  they  said  they 
sat  down  because  unable  to  stand  up  any  longer,  and,  of 
course,  instantly  fell  asleep.  I  had  them  relieved  and 
sent  back  to  camp,  and  did  not  report  their  offence. 

A  disagreeable  duty  I  had  to  perform  occurred  one 
morning  just  at  break  of  day.  I  had  just  returned  from 
my  trip  over  the  line  and  was  about  entering  the  Lacey 
House,  when  I  noticed  a  man  running  down  towards  the 
water's  edge  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  On  these 
night  tours  of  duty  I  wore  a  large  cavalry  overcoat  with 
a  long  cape,  which  thoroughly  concealed  my  rank  and 
sword.  I  stepped  out  to  the  top  of  the  bank  to  see  what 
this  man  was  doing,  and  he  hailed  me  with :  "  Hello, 
Yank.  I  am  going  to  send  ye  over  a  nice  boat,  with 
tobacco  and  newspapers.  Look  out  and  get  her,  and 
send  her  back  with  coffee  and  newspapers,  and  don't  let 
any  of  your  d — d  officers  get  hold  of  it.  If  they  catch 
ye  they'll  raise  h — 1  with  you,  and  swipe  the  whole  busi 
ness."  I  did  not  say  a  word,  but  quietly  walked  down  to 
where  I  saw  the  boat  would  touch  the  shore  and  waited 
for  it.  In  the  mean  time  he  kept  up  a  running  fire  of 
admonitions  like  the  above,  chiefly  directed  to  the  need 

186 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

of  watching  against  the  vigilance  of  our  d — d  officers. 
I  picked  up  the  boat,  took  it  up  the  bank,  and  then  threw 
my  coat  open,  disclosing  my  sword  and  my  sash  as  officer 
of  the  day.  Oh !  the  profanity  and  billingsgate  that  fol 
lowed  beggars  description.  I  thought  I  had  heard  swear 
ing  before,  but  never  anything  to  touch  this  fellow,  and 
I  really  could  not  blame  him  very  much.  He  had  simply 
hailed  the  wrong  man.  The  man  he  thought  he  was 
hailing,  seeing  my  presence,  kept  out  of  the  way.  The 
boat  was  a  little  beauty,  one  of  the  handsomest  I  ever 
saw.  It  contained  five  or  six  pounds  of  the  best  Virginia 
plug  tobacco  and  several  newspapers  from  Richmond.  I 
would  have  been  glad  to  have  kept  the  boat  as  a  souvenir, 
but  had  to  despatch  it  to  head-quarters  with  all  its  contents 
at  once.  Of  course  I  never  saw  it  again. 

The  "  Johnnies"  were  not  without  their  fun,  as  well  as 
our  boys.  Several  times  I  was  saluted  by  their  pickets 
as  officer  of  the  day.  Army  regulations  require  the  sentry 
nearest  the  picket  reserve,  on  seeing  the  officer  of  the  day 
approach,  to  call  out,  "  Turn  out  the  guard,  officer  of  the 
day."  Thereupon  the  officer  of  the  picket  parades  his 
reserves,  which  presents  arms  and  is  then  inspected  by 
the  officer  of  the  day.  The  red  sash  worn  crosswise  over 
the  shoulder  is  the  insignia  of  the  officer  of  the  day. 
Several  times  that  winter,  as  I  was  riding  along  our  line, 
a  rebel  sentry  yelled,  "  Turn  out  the  guard,  officer  of  the 
day,"  and  a  sergeant  paraded  his  guard,  faced  towards  me 
across  the  river,  and  presented  arms.  Of  course,  I  lifted 
my  cap  in  acknowledgment  of  the  compliment,  even 
though  it  was  a  bit  of  deviltry  on  their  part.  This  indi 
cated  a  grave  want  of  discipline  on  the  part  of  their  troops. 

187 


War  from  the  Inside 

I  am  sure  such  an  act  would  not  have  been  thought  of  by 
our  men. 

General  Burnside  was  relieved  from  command  of  the 
army  on  the  26th  of  January,  1863,  and  was  succeeded 
by  Major-General  Joseph  Hooker.  "  Fighting  Joe,"  as 
he  was  familiarly  called,  was  justly  popular  with  the  army, 
nevertheless  there  was  general  regret  at  the  retirement 
of  Burnside,  notwithstanding  his  ill  success.  That  there 
was  more  than  the  "  fates"  against  him  was  felt  by  many, 
and  whether  under  existing  conditions  "  Fighting  Joe" 
or  any  one  else  was  likely  to  achieve  any  better  success 
was  a  serious  question.  However,  all  felt  that  the  new 
commander  had  lots  of  fight  in  him,  and  the  old  Army 
of  the  Potomac  was  never  known  to  "  go  back"  on  such 
a  man.  His  advent  as  commander  was  signalized  by  a 
modest  order  announcing  the  fact,  and  matters  moved 
on  without  a  ripple  upon  the  surface.  Routine  work, 
drills,  and  picket  duty  occupied  all  our  time.  Some  of 
our  men  were  required  to  go  on  picket  duty  every  other 
day,  so  many  were  off  duty  from  sickness  and  other 
causes.  Twenty-four  hours  on  picket  duty,  with  only 
twenty-four  hours  off  between,  was  certainly  very  severe 
duty,  yet  the  men  did  it  without  a  murmur.  When  it  is 
understood  that  this  duty  required  being  that  whole  time 
out  in  the  most  trying  weather,  usually  either  rain,  sleet, 
slush,  or  mud,  and  constantly  awake  and  alert  against 
a  possible  attack,  one  can  form  an  idea  of  the  strain  upon 
physical  endurance  it  involved. 

The  chief  event  preceding  the  Chancellorsville  move 
ment  was  the  grand  review  of  the  army  by  President  Lin 
coln  and  staff.  The  exact  date  of  this  review  I  do  not 

188 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

remember,  but  it  occurred  a  short  time  before  the  move 
ment  upon  Chancellorsville.  Owing  to  the  absence  of 
Colonel  Albright  and  the  illness  of  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Shreve,  the  command  of  the  regiment  devolved  upon  me, 
and  I  had  a  funny  experience  getting  ready  for  it.  As  a 
sort  of  preliminary  drill,  I  concluded  I  would  put  the 
regiment  through  a  practice  review  on  our  drill  grounds. 
To  do  this  properly,  I  had  to  imagine  the  presence  of  a 
reviewing  officer  standing  before  our  line  at  the  proper 
distance  of  thirty  to  forty  yards.  The  ceremony  involved 
opening  the  ranks,  which  brought  the  officers  to  the  front 
of  the  line,  the  presenting  arms,  and  dipping  the  colors, 
which  the  reviewing  officer,  usually  a  general,  acknowl 
edged  by  lifting  his  hat  and  gracefully  bowing.  I  had 
reached  the  point  in  my  practice  drill  where  the  "  present 
arms"  had  been  executed,  and  the  colors  lowered,  and 
had  turned  to  the  front  myself  to  complete  the  ceremony 
by  presenting  sword  to  my  imaginary  general,  when  lo! 
there  rose  up  in  front  of  me,  in  the  proper  position,  a  real 
reviewing  officer  in  the  shape  of  one  of  the  worst  looking 
army  "  bums"  I  ever  saw.  He  assumed  the  position  and 
dignified  carriage  of  a  major-general,  lifted  his  dirty  old 
"  cabbage-leaf"  cap,  and  bowed  up  and  down  the  line  with 
the  grace  and  air  of  a  Wellington,  and  then  he  promptly 
skedaddled.  The  "boys"  caught  the  situation  instantly 
and  were  bursting  with  laughter.  Of  course  I  didn't 
notice  the  performance,  but  the  effort  not  to  notice  it 
almost  used  me  up.  This  will  illustrate  how  the  army 
"  bummer"  never  let  an  opportunity  slip  for  a  practical 
joke,  cost  what  it  might.  This  fellow  was  a  specimen  of 
this  genus  that  was  ubiquitous  in  the  army.  Every  regi- 

189 


War  from  the  Inside 

ment  had  one  or  more.  They  were  always  dirty  and 
lousy,  a  sort  of  tramp,  but  always  on  hand  at  the  wrong 
time  and  in  the  wrong  place.  A  little  indifferent  sort  of 
service  could  be  occasionally  worked  out  of  them,  but 
they  generally  skulked  whenever  there  was  business  on 
hand,  and  then  they  were  so  fertile  of  excuses  that  some 
how  they  escaped  the  penalty  and  turned  up  again  when 
the  "  business"  was  over.  Their  one  specialty  was  for 
aging.  They  were  born  foragers.  What  they  could  not 
steal  was  not  to  be  had,  and  this  probably  accounts  in  a 
measure  for  their  being  endured.  Their  normal  occupa 
tion  was  foraging  and,  incidentally,  Sancho  Panza  like, 
looking  for  adventure.  They  knew  more  of  our  move 
ments,  and  also  of  those  of  the  enemy,  than  the  command 
ing  general  of  either.  One  of  the  most  typical  of  this 
class  that  I  knew  was  a  young  fellow  I  had  known  very, 
well  before  the  war.  He  was  a  shining  light  in  society, 
occupying  a  high  and  responsible  business  position.  His 
one  fault  was  his  good-fellowship  and  disposition  to  be 
convivial  when  off  duty.  He  enlisted  among  the  first, 
when  the  war  broke  out  in  1861,  and  I  did  not  see  him 
again  until  one  day  one  of  this  genus  "  bummer"  strayed 
into  our  camp.  He  stuck  his  head  into  my  tent  and 
wanted  to  know  how  "  Fred.  Hitchcock  was."  I  had  to 
take  a  long  second  look  to  dig  out  from  this  bunch  of 
rags  and  filth  my  one-time  Beau  Brummel  acquaintance 
at  home.  His  eyes  were  bleared,  and  told  all  too  surely 
the  cause  of  the  transformation.  His  brag  was  that  he 
had  skipped  every  fight  since  he  enlisted.  "  It's  lots  more 
fun,"  he  said,  "  to  climb  a  tree  well  in  the  rear  and  see 
the  show.  It's  perfectly  safe,  you  know,  and  then  you 

190 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

don't  get  yourself  killed  and  planted.  What  is  the  use," 
he  argued,  "  of  getting  killed  and  have  a  fine  monument 
erected  over  you,  when  you  can't  see  it  nor  make  any  use 
of  it  after  it  is  done?  Let  the  other  fellows  do  that  if 
they  want  to.  I've  no  use  for  monuments."  Poor  fellow, 
his  cynical  ideas  were  his  ruin.  Better  a  thousand  times 
had  he  been  "  planted"  at  the  front,  manfully  doing  his 
duty,  than  to  save  a  worthless  life  and  return  with  the 
record  of  a  poltroon,  despised  by  himself  and  everybody 
else. 

This  review  by  President  Lincoln  and  the  new  com- 
mander-in-chief,  General  Hooker,  was,  from  a  military, 
spectacular  point  of  view,  the  chief  event  of  our  army 
experience.  It  included  the  whole  of  the  great  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  now  numbering  upward  of  one  hundred 
and  thirty  thousand  men,  probably  its  greatest  numerical 
strength  of  the  whole  war.  Deducting  picket  details, 
there  were  present  on  this  review,  it  is  safe  to  say,  from 
ninety  thousand  to  one  hundred  thousand  men.  It  was 
a  remarkable  event  historically,  because  so  far  as  I  can 
learn  it  was  the  only  time  this  great  army  was  ever 
paraded  in  line  so  that  it  could  be  seen  all  together.  In 
this  respect  it  was  the  most  magnificent  military  pageant 
ever  witnessed  on  this  continent,  far  exceeding  in  its 
impressive  grandeur  what  has  passed  into  history  as  the 
"  great  review,"  which  preceded  the  final  "  muster  out" 
at  the  close  of  the  war  in  the  city  of  Washington.  At  the 
latter  not  more  than  ten  thousand  men  could  have  been 
seen  at  one  time,  probably  not  nearly  so  many,  for  the  eye 
could  take  in  only  the  column  which  filled  Pennsylvania 
Avenue  from  the  Capitol  to  the  Treasury  Building. 

191 


War  from  the  Inside 

Whereas,  upon  our  review  the  army  was  first  drawn  up 
in  what  is  known  as  three  lines  of  "  masses,"  and  one 
glance  of  the  eye  could  take  in  the  whole  army.  Think 
of  it !  One  hundred  thousand  men  in  one  sweep  of  vision ! 
If  the  word  "  Selah"  in  the  Psalm  means  "  stop !  think ! 
consider !"  it  would  be  particularly  appropriate  here. 

A  word  now  about  the  formation  in  "  lines  of  masses." 
Each  regiment  was  formed  in  column  of  divisions.  To 
those  unfamiliar  with  military  terms,  I  must  explain  that 
this  very  common  formation  with  large  bodies  of  troops 
consists  in  putting  two  companies  together  as  a  division 
under  the  command  of  the  senior  officer,  thus  making 
of  a  regiment  of  ten  companies  a  column  of  five  divisions, 
each  two-company  front.  This  was  known  as  "  massing" 
the  troops.  When  so  placed  in  line  they  were  called  a 
line  of  "  masses;"  when  marching,  a  column  of  "  masses." 
It  will  be  seen  that  the  actual  frontage  of  each  regiment 
so  formed  was  the  width  of  two  companies  only,  the  other 
eight  companies  being  formed  in  like  manner  in  their 
rear.  Now  imagine  four  regiments  so  formed  and  placed 
side  by  side,  fronting  on  the  same  line  and  separated  from 
each  other  by  say  fifty  feet,  and  you  have  a  brigade  line 
of  masses.  The  actual  frontage  of  a  brigade  so  formed 
would  be  considerably  less  than  that  of  a  single  regiment 
on  dress  parade.  Now  take  three  such  brigades,  sepa 
rated  from  each  other  by  say  fifty  feet,  and  you  have  a 
division  line  of  masses.  Three  divisions  made  up  an 
army  corps.  The  army  was  formed  in  three  lines  of 
masses,  of  two  corps  each,  on  the  large  open  plain  opposite 
Fredericksburg,  to  the  south  and  east  of  where  the  rail 
road  crossed  the  river.  Each  of  these  lines  of  masses 

192 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

contained  from  seventy  to  eighty  regiments  of  infantry, 
besides  the  artillery,  which  was  paraded  on  the  several 
lines  at  different  intervals.  I  do  not  remember  seeing 
any  cavalry,  and  my  impression  is  that  this  branch  of  the 
service  was  not  represented.  Some  idea  may  be  formed 
of  the  magnificence  of  this  spectacle  when  I  state  that 
each  of  these  lines  of  masses  was  more  than  a  mile  in 
length,  and  the  depth  of  the  three  lines  from  front  to  rear, 
including  the  spaces  between,  was  not  less  than  four  hun 
dred  yards,  or  about  one-fifth  of  a  mile.  Each  of  the 
regiments  displayed  its  two  stands  of  silk  colors,  one  the 
blue  flag  representing  the  State  from  which  it  came,  the 
other  the  national  colors.  There  were  here  and  there  a 
brace  of  these  flags,  very  conspicuous  in  their  brilliant 
newness,  indicating  a  fresh  accession  to  the  army,  but 
most  of  them  were  tattered  and  torn  by  shot  and  shell, 
whilst  a  closer  look  revealed  the  less  conspicuous  but 
more  deadly  slits  and  punctures  of  the  minie-balls. 

Now  place  yourself  on  the  right  of  this  army  paraded 
for  review  and  look  down  the  long  lines.  Try  to  count 
the  standards  as  the  favoring  wind  lifts  their  sacred  folds 
and  caressingly  shows  you  their  battle  scars.  You  will 
need  to  look  very  closely,  lest  those  miniature  penants,  far 
away,  whose  staffs  appear  no  larger  than  parlor  matches 
protruding  above  lines  of  men,  whose  forms  in  the  dis 
tance  have  long  since  merged  into  a  mere  bluish  gray  line, 
escape  your  eye.  Your  numbering  will  crowd  the  five 
hundred  mark  ere  you  finish,  and  you  should  remember 
that  each  of  these  units  represented  a  thousand  men  when 
in  the  vigor  and  enthusiasm  of  patriotic  manhood  they 
bravely  marched  to  the  front.  Only  a  fifth  of  them  left? 
13  193 


War  from  the  Inside 

you  say.    And  the  others  ?    Ah !   the  battle,  the  hospital, 
the  prison-pen,  the  h-11  of  war,  must  be  the  answer. 

How  can  words  describe  the  scene  ?  This  is  that  mag 
nificent  old  battered  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Look  upon 
it;  you  shall  never  behold  its  like  again.  There  have 
been  and  may  yet  be  many  armies  greater  in  numbers, 
and  possibly,  in  all  the  paraphernalia  of  war,  more  showy. 
There  can  never  be  another  Army  of  the  Potomac,  with 
such  a  history.  As  I  gazed  up  and  down  those  massive 
lines  of  living  men,  felt  that  I  was  one  of  them,  and  saw 
those  battle-scarred  flags  kissed  by  the  loving  breeze,  my 
blood  tingled  to  my  very  finger-tips,  my  hair  seemed 
almost  to  raise  straight  up,  and  I  said  a  thousand  Con 
federacies  can't  whip  us.  And  here  I  think  I  grasped  the 
main  purpose  of  this  review.  It  was  not  simply  to  give 
the  President  a  sight  of  his  "  strong  right  arm,"  as  he 
fondly  called  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  nor  General 
Hooker,  its  new  commander,  an  opportunity  to  see  his 
men  and  them  a  chance  to  see  their  new  chief, — though 
both  of  these  were  included, — but  it  was  to  give  the  army 
a  square  look  at  its  mighty  self,  see  how  large  and  how 
strong  it  really  was,  that  every  man  might  thereby  get 
the  same  enthusiasm  and  inspiration  that  I  did,  and  know 
that  it  simply  could  not  be  beaten.  The  enemy,  it  is  not 
strange  to  say,  were  intensely  interested  spectators  of  this 
whole  scene,  for  the  review  was  held  in  full  view  of  the 
whole  of  their  army.  No  place  could  have  been  chosen 
that  would  better  have  accommodated  their  enjoyment  of 
the  picture,  if  such  it  was,  than  that  open  plain,  exactly  in 
their  front.  And  we  could  see  them  swarming  over 
Marye's  Heights  and  the  lines  to  the  south  of  it,  intently 

194 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

gazing  upon  us.  A  scene  more  resplendent  with  military 
pageantry  and  the  soul-stirring  accessories  of  war  they 
will  never  see  again.  But  did  it  stir  their  blood?  Yes; 
but  with  bitterness  only,  for  they  must  have  seen  that  the 
task  before  them  of  successfully  resisting  the  onslaughts 
of  this  army  was  impossible.  Here  was  disclosed,  un 
doubtedly,  another  purpose  of  this  grand  review,  viz.,  to 
let  the  enemy  see  with  their  own  eyes  how  powerful  the 
army  was  with  which  they  had  to  contend. 

A  remarkable  feature  of  this  review  was  the  marvellous 
celerity  of  its  formation.  The  various  corps  and  sub 
divisions  of  the  army  were  started  on  the  march  for  the 
reviewing  ground  so  as  to  reach  it  at  about  the  same  time. 
It  should  be  remembered  that  most  of  them  were  en 
camped  from  four  to  eight  miles  away.  Aides-de-camp 
with  markers  by  the  score  were  already  in  position  on  the 
plain  when  the  troops  arrived,  so  that  there  was  almost 
no  delay  in  getting  into  position.  As  our  column  de 
bouched  upon  the  field,  there  seemed  an  inextricable  mass 
of  marching  columns  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  Could 
order  ever  be  gotten  out  of  it?  Yet,  presto!  the  right 
of  the  line  fell  into  position,  a  series  of  blue  blocks,  and 
then  on  down  to  the  far  left,  block  after  block,  came  upon 
the  line  with  unerring  order  and  precision,  as  though  it 
were  a  long  curling  whiplash  straightening  itself  out  to 
the  tension  of  a  giant  hand.  And  so  with  each  of  the 
other  two  lines.  All  were  formed  simultaneously.  Here 
was  not  only  perfection  of  military  evolution,  but  the 
poetry  of  rhythmic  movement.  The  three  lines  were  all 
formed  within  twenty  minutes,  ready  for  the  reviewing 
officers. 

195 


War  from  the  Inside 

Almost  immediately  the  blare  of  the  trumpets  an 
nounced  the  approach  of  the  latter,  and  the  tall  form  of 
the  President  was  seen,  accompanied  by  a  large  retinue, 
galloping  down  the  first  line.  Our  division  was  formed, 
as  I  recollect,  in  the  first  line,  about  three  hundred  yards 
from  the  right.  The  President  was  mounted  on  a  large, 
handsome  horse,  and  as  he  drew  near  I  saw  that  imme 
diately  on  his  right  rode  his  son,  Robert  Lincoln,  then  a 
bright-looking  lad  of  fourteen  to  fifteen  years,  and  little 
"  Tad"  Lincoln,  the  idol  of  his  father,  was  on  his  left. 
The  latter  could  not  have  been  more  than  seven  or  eight: 
years  old.  He  was  mounted  on  a  large  horse,  and  his  little 
feet  seemed  to  stick  almost  straight  out  from  the  saddle. 
He  was  round  and  pudgy,  and  his  jolly  little  body  bobbed 
up  and  down  like  a  ball  under  the  stiff  canter  of  his  horse. 
I  wondered  how  he  maintained  his  seat,  but  he  was  really 
a  better  horseman  than  his  father,  for  just  before  reaching 
our  regiment  there  was  a  little  summer  stream  ravine, 
probably  a  couple  of  yards  wide,  that  had  to  be  jumped. 
The  horses  took  it  all  right,  but  the  President  landed 
on  the  other  side  with  a  terrific  jounce,  being  almost  un 
seated.  The  boys  went  over  flying,  little  "  Tad"  in  high 
glee,  like  a  monkey  on  a  mustang. 

Of  course,  a  mighty  cheer  greeted  the  President  as  he 
galloped  down  the  long  line.  There  was  something  inde 
scribably  weird  about  that  huzzah  from  the  throats  of 
these  thousands  of  men,  first  full,  sonorous,  and  thrilling, 
and  then  as  it  rolled  down  that  attenuated  line  gradually 
fading  into  a  minor  strain  until  it  was  lost  in  the  dis 
tance,  only  to  reappear  as  the  cavalcade  returned  in  front 
of  the  second  line,  first  the  faintest  note  of  a  violin,  then 

196 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

rapidly  swelling  into  the  full  volume,  to  again  die  away 
and  for  the  third  time  reappear  and  die  away  as  the  third 
line  was  reviewed.  The  President  was  followed  by  a 
large  staff  dressed  in  full  uniform,  which  contrasted 
strongly  with  his  own  severely  plain  black.  He  wore  a 
high  silk  hat  and  a  plain  frock  coat.  His  face  wore  that 
peculiar  sombre  expression  we  see  in  all  his  photo 
graphs,  but  it  lighted  up  into  a  half-smile  as  he  occasion 
ally  lifted  his  hat  in  acknowledgment  of  the  cheering  of 
the  men. 

About  one  hundred  yards  in  rear  of  the  President's 
staff  came  the  new  commanding  general,  "  Fighting  Joe." 
He  was  dressed  in  the  full  uniform  of  a  major-general, 
and  was  accompanied  by  his  chief  of  staff,  Seth  Williams 
— he  who  had  held  this  position  under  every  commander 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  thus  far — and  a  large  and 
brilliant  staff.  There  must  have  been  fully  twenty  officers 
of  various  ranks,  from  his  chief  of  staff,  a  general,  down 
through  all  grades  to  a  lieutenant,  in  this  corps  of  staff 
officers.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  General  Hooker 
to  know  him.  His  personal  appearance  did  not  belie  his 
reputation.  He  had  a  singularly  strong,  handsome  face, 
sat  his  superb  horse  like  a  king,  broad-shouldered  and 
elegantly  proportioned  in  form,  with  a  large,  fine  head, 
well  covered  with  rather  long  hair,  now  as  white  as  the 
driven  snow  and  flowing  in  the  wind  as  he  galloped  down 
the  line,  chapeau  in  hand;  he  was  a  striking  and  pic 
turesque  figure.  It  was  evident  the  head  of  the  army  had 
lost  nothing  in  personal  appearance  by  its  recent  change. 
The  same  cheering  marked  the  appearance  of  "  Fighting 
Joe"  which  had  greeted  the  President,  as  he  and  staff 

197 


War  from  the  Inside 

galloped  down  and  up  and  down  through  the  three  long 
lines. 

Both  reviewing  cavalcades  moved  at  a  brisk  gallop,  and 
occupied  only  about  twenty  minutes  covering  the  three 
miles  of  lines;  and  then  the  President  and  staff  took 
position,  for  the  marching  review,  some  distance  in  front 
and  about  midway  of  the  lines.  Instantly  the  scene  was 
transformed.  The  first  line  wheeled  into  column  by 
brigades  successively  and,  headed  by  General  Hooker  and 
staff,  moved  rapidly  forward.  There  were  but  few  bands, 
and  the  drum  corps  had  been  consolidated  into  division^ 
corps.  On  passing  the  President,  General  Hooker  took 
position  by  his  side  and  remained  throughout  the  re 
mainder  of  the  ceremony.  The  troops  marched  in  col 
umns  of  masses,  in  the  same  formation  they  had  stood  in 
line;  that  is,  in  column  of  two  companies  front  and  only 
six  yards  between  divisions.  This  made  a  very  compact 
mass  of  troops,  quite  unusual  in  reviews,  but  was  neces 
sary  in  order  to  avoid  the  great  length  of  time  that  in  the 
usual  formation  would  have  been  required  for  the  passing 
of  this  vast  body  of  men.  Yet  in  this  close  formation  the 
balance  of  the  day  was  nearly  consumed  in  marching  past 
the  President. 

It  must  have  been  a  trying  ordeal  to  him,  as  he  had  to 
lift  his  hat  as  each  stand  of  colors  successively  dipped  in 
passing.  Immediately  on  passing  the  President,  the  sev 
eral  brigades  were  wheeled  out  of  the  column  and  ordered 
to  quarters.  I  remember  that  we  returned  to  our  camp, 
over  a  mile  distant,  dismissed  the  men,  and  then  several 
of  us  officers  rode  back  to  see  the  continuation  of  the 
pageant.  When  we  got  back  the  second  line  was  only 

198 


The  Winter  at  Falmouth 

well  on  its  way,  which  meant  that  only  about  half  the 
army  had  passed  in  review.  We  could  see  from  fifteen  to 
twenty  thousand  men  in  column — that  is  to  say,  about 
one  army  corps — at  a  time.  The  quick,  vigorous  step, 
in  rhythmical  cadence  to  the  music,  the  fife  and  drum,  the 
massive  swing,  as  though  every  man  was  actually  a  part 
of  every  other  man;  the  glistening  of  bayonets  like  a 
long  ribbon  of  polished  steel,  interspersed  with  the  stirring 
effects  of  those  historic  flags,  in  countless  numbers, 
made  a  picture  impressive  beyond  the  power  of  descrip 
tion.  A  picture  of  the  ages.  How  glad  I  am  to  have 
looked  upon  it.  I  could  not  remain  to  see  the  end.  When 
finally  I  was  compelled  to  leave  the  third  line  was  march 
ing.  I  can  still  see  that  soul-thrilling  column,  that  massive 
swing,  those  flaunting  colors,  that  sheen  of  burnished 
steel!  Majestic!  Incomparable!!  Glorious!!! 


199 


CHAPTER   XV 


THE   BATTLE   OF    CHANCELLORSVILLE 

AN  interesting  item  in  the  experience  that  winter  at 
Falmouth  was  the  celebration  of  St.  Patrick's  day  by  the 
Irish  brigade  and  their  multitude  of  friends.  They  werb 
encamped  about  a  mile  to  the  south  of  our  brigade  upon 
a  beautiful,  broad,  open  plain  between  the  surrounding 
hills,  which  gave  them  a  superb  parade  and  drill-ground. 
Upon  this  they  had  laid  out  a  mile  race  track  in  excellent 
shape,  and  they  had  provided  almost  every  conceivable 
sort  of  amusement  that  was  possible  to  army  life — 
matches  in  running,  jumping,  boxing,  climbing  the 
greased  pole,  sack  races,  etc.  But  the  usual  pig  per 
formance  had  to  be  omitted  owing  to  the  enforced 
absence  of  the  pig.  The  appearance  of  a  live  porker 
would  have  stampeded  the  army  in  a  wild  chase  for 
fresh  meat. 

The  chief  events  were  horse  races.  The  army  abounded 
in  excellent  thoroughbreds,  private  property  of  officers, 
and  all  were  anxious  to  show  the  mettle  of  their  steeds. 
Everybody  was  invited  to  be  present  and  take  such  part 
as  he  pleased  in  any  of  the  events.  It  was  a  royal  gala 
day  to  the  army;  from  morning  until  night  there  were 
excitement  and  side-splitting  amusement.  Nor  was  there, 

200 


a  s 

2    a. 


H 
>a 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

throughout  the  whole  day,  a  thing,  not  even  a  small  fight, 
that  I  heard  of,  to  mar  the  wholesome  fun,  until  towards 
night  our  old  enemy,  John  Barleycorn,  managed  to  get  in 
some  of  his  work. 

The  chief  event  of  the  day  and  the  wind-up  was  a 
hurdle  and  ditch  race,  open  to  officers  only.  Hurdles  and 
ditches  alternated  the  course  at  a  distance  of  two  hundred 
yards,  except  at  the  finish,  where  a  hurdle  and  ditch  were 
together,  the  ditch  behind  the  hurdle.  Such  a  race  was 
a  hare-brained  performance  in  the  highest  degree;  but 
so  was  army  life  at  its  best,  and  this  was  not  out  of  keep 
ing  with  its  surroundings.  Excitement  was  what  was 
wanted,  and  this  was  well  calculated  to  produce  it. 

The  hurdles  were  four  and  five  feet  high  and  did  not 
prove  serious  obstacles  to  the  jumpers,  but  the  ditches, 
four  and  five  feet  wide  and  filled  with  water,  proved  a 
bete  noir  to  most  of  the  racers.  Some  twenty-five,  all 
young  staff-officers,  started,  but  few  got  beyond  the  first 
ditch.  Many  horses  that  took  the  hurdle  all  right  posi 
tively  refused  the  ditch.  Several  officers  were  dumped 
at  the  first  hurdle,  and  two  were  thrown  squarely  over 
their  horses'  heads  into  the  first  ditch,  and  were  nice- 
looking  specimens  as  they  crawled  out  of  that  bath  of 
muddy  water.  They  were  unhurt,  however,  and  re 
mounted  and  tried  it  again,  with  better  success. 

The  crowning  incident  of  the  day  occurred  at  the  finish 
of  this  race  at  the  combination  hurdle  and  ditch.  Out  of 
the  number  who  started,  only  three  had  compassed  safely 
all  the  hurdles  and  ditches  and  come  to  the  final  leap. 
The  horses  were  about  a  length  apart  each.  The  first 

201 


War  from  the  Inside 

took  the  hurdle  in  good  shape,  but  failed  to  reach  the 
further  bank  of  the  ditch  and  fell  over  sideways  into  it, 
carrying  down  his  rider.  Whilst  they  were  struggling  to 
get  out,  the  second  man  practically  repeated  the  perform 
ance  and  fell  on  the  first  pair,  and  the  rear  man,  now 
unable  to  check  his  horse,  spurred  him  over,  only  to  fall 
on  the  others.  It  was  a  fearful  sight  for  a  moment,  and  it 
seemed  certain  that  the  officers  were  killed  or  suffocated 
in  that  water,  now  thick  with  mud.  But  a  hundred  hands 
were  instantly  to  the  rescue,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes 
to  tell  it  all  were  gotten  out  and,  strange  to  say,  the  horses 
were  unhurt  and  only  one  officer  seriously  injured,  a 
broken  leg  only  to  the  bad  for  the  escapade.  But  neither 
officers  nor  horses  were  particularly  handsome  as  they 
emerged  from  that  ditch.  The  incident  can  be  set  down 
as  a  terrific  finale  to  this  first  and  last  army  celebration 
of  St.  Patrick's  day. 

The  tedium  of  routine  duty  occupied  our  time  without 
specially  exciting  incident  until  pleasanter  weather 
towards  the  middle  of  April  brought  rumors  of  impend 
ing  army  movements  again.  About  April  20  we  heard 
the  cavalry  under  Stoneman  were  on  the  move,  and  this 
was  confirmed  the  next  day,  when  I  saw  that  general  with 
quite  a  body  of  cavalry  marching  leisurely  north.  The 
horses  appeared  in  excellent  condition  after  a  winter  of 
partial  rest.  General  Stoneman  was  a  large  man,  with 
short  gray  whiskers  and  gray  hair  and  a  strikingly 
bronzed  red  face.  This  story  was  told  of  him  anent  this 
movement,  that  Hooker  had  told  him  to  do  something 
with  his  horses;  to  cross  the  river  at  one  of  the  fords 
above  and  shake  out  his  cavalry,  that  it  was  "  about  time 

202 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

the  army  saw  a  dead  cavalryman."  Stoneman  had  replied, 
asking  for  materials  to  build  bridges  with,  and  "  Fighting 
Joe"  had  impatiently  replied  that  he  wouldn't  "  give  a 
d — n  for  a  cavalryman  who  couldn't  make  a  bridge 
without  materials,"  meaning  who  could  not  cross  a  river 
without  a  bridge. 

Soon  orders  came  to  supply  ourselves  with  extra  ammu 
nition,  and  be  prepared  to  move  with  six  days'  rations 
at  a  moment's  notice.  This  settled  it  that  "  business" 
was  about  to  commence  again  in  earnest.  What  the  con 
templated  movement  was  we  had  not  the  remotest  idea, 
though  we  knew,  of  course,  it  was  to  be  another  whack 
in  some  form  at  the  Johnnies  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river.  We  set  about  disposing  of  all  surplus  baggage 
which  had  accumulated  for  winter  quarters,  and  putting 
everything  in  trim  for  field  living  once  more.  We  could 
now  see  columns  of  troops  in  the  distance  marching  north. 
Was  the  new  movement,  then,  to  be  in  that  direction? 
This  was  the  topic  upon  all  lips.  The  desire  to  know 
something  of  what  was  being  done  with  us  was  naturally 
very  strong.  Where  were  we  going?  What  were  we 
going  to  do?  Yet  a  desire  that  in  the  nature  of  things 
could  not  be  satisfied.  One  can  have  no  conception  of 
the  feeling  of  going  day  after  day  blindly  ahead,  not 
knowing  whither  or  why;  knowing  only  that  sooner  or 
later  you  are  going  to  fetch  up  against  a  fight,  and  cal 
culating  from  your  surroundings  the  probabilities  of 
when. 

We  felt  one  satisfaction,  however,  that  this  was  to  be 
our  last  campaign  as  a  regiment.  Most  of  our  men  had 
enlisted  in  the  July  previous  for  nine  months,  and  their 

203 


War  from  the  Inside 

time  was  now  practically  out;  but,  to  their  credit  be  it 
said,  they  would  not  raise  this  question  during  an  active 
movement.  There  were  -troops  who  threw  down  their 
arms  on  the  eve  of  battle  and  refused  to  go  into  action 
because  their  time  was  out.  Such  action  has  been  severely 
criticised,  and  I  think  uncharitably.  After  a  man  has 
honorably  and  patriotically  served  his  full  time  and  is 
entitled  to  his  discharge,  it  would  seem  pretty  hard  to 
force  him  to  go  into  battle  and  be  killed  or  wounded. 
Nevertheless,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  nearly  this  whole  cam 
paign  was  overtime  for  most  of  our  regiment,  yet  the 
question  was  not  raised. 

On  April  28  our  corps  broke  camp  and  joined  the  col 
umn  northward.  The  winter's  rest  had  brought  some 
accessions  to  our  ranks  from  the  sick  and  wounded, 
though  the  severe  picket  duty  and  the  excessively  damp 
weather  had  given  us  a  large  sick  list.  We  had,  to  start 
with,  upward  of  three  hundred  and  seventy-five  men,  to 
which  was  added  some  twenty-five  or  thirty  from  the 
sick  list,  who  came  up  to  us  on  the  march.  It  is  a  curious 
fact  that  many  men  left  sick  in  camp,  unable  to  march 
when  the  regiment  leaves,  will  get  themselves  together 
after  the  former  has  been  gone  a  few  hours  and  pull  out 
to  overtake  it.  I  saw  men  crying  like  children  because 
the  surgeon  had  forbidden  them  going  with  the  regi 
ment.  The  loneliness  and  homesickness,  or  whatever  you 
please  to  call  it,  after  the  regiment  has  gone  are  too  much 
for  them.  They  simply  cannot  endure  it,  and  so  they 
strike  out  and  follow.  They  will  start  by  easy  marches, 
and  they  generally  improve  in  health  from  the  moment 
they  start.  Courage  and  nerve  are  both  summoned  for 

204 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

the  effort,  and  the  result  is  that  at  the  end  of  the  second 
or  third  day  they  rejoin  the  regiment  and  report  for  duty. 
This  does  not  mean  that  they  were  not  really  sick,  but 
that  will  power  and  exercise  have  beaten  the  disease. 
I  have  heard  many  a  sick  man  say  he  would  rather  die 
than  be  left  behind. 

We  marched  about  six  miles  the  first  day,  much  of  our 
route  being  through  a  wooded  country,  some  of  it  so  wet 
and  spongy  that  corduroy  roads  had  to  be  built  for  the 
wagons  and  artillery.  The  army  can,  as  a  rule,  move  as 
rapidly  as  it  can  move  its  artillery  and  supply  trains,  and 
no  faster.  Of  course,  for  short  distances  and  special  expe 
ditions,  where  circumstances  require,  both  cavalry  and 
infantry  move  very  rapidly,  ignoring  the  wagon  trains 
and  artillery;  but  on  a  general  campaign  this  is  impos 
sible,  and  so  where  the  ground  is  bad  these  must  be 
helped  along.  In  a  wooded  country  the  usual  method  is 
by  corduroy  road.  Extra  details  are  made  to  assist  the 
pioneer  corps,  who  cut  down  young  saplings  three  to  six 
inches  in  diameter  and  about  six  feet  in  length  and  lay 
them  side  by  side  on  the  ground,  which  is  roughly  levelled 
to  receive  them.  They  do  not  make  a  handsome  road  to 
speed  over,  but  they  bear  up  the  artillery  and  army 
schooners,  and  that  is  all  that  is  wanted  of  them. 

The  second  day  we  crossed  the  Rappahannock  at 
United  States  ford  on  a  pontoon  bridge.  There  had 
been  a  sharp  skirmish  here  when  the  first  troops  crossed 
a  couple  of  days  before,  and  a  battery  of  artillery  was  still 
in  position  guarding  the  crossing.  We  now  began  to 
experience  once  more  the  unmistakable  symptoms  of  ap 
proaching  battle, — sharp  spurts  of  cannonading  at  irregu- 

205 


War  from  the  Inside 

lar  intervals  some  distance  to  the  south  and  west  of  us, 
with  the  hurry  of  marching  troops,  ambulances  and 
stretcher  corps  towards  the  front;  more  or  less  of  army 
debris  scattered  about,  and  the  nervous  bustle  everywhere 
apparent.  We  reached  the  famous  Chancellorsville  House 
shortly  after  midnight.  This  was  an  old-time  hostelry, 
situated  on  what  was  called  the  Culpeper  plank-road. 
It  stood  with  two  or  three  smaller  houses  in  a  cleared 
square  space  containing  some  twenty  or  thirty  acres,  in 
the  midst  of  the  densest  forest  of  trees  and  undergrowth 
I  ever  saw.  We  had  marched  all  day  on  plank  and  cor 
duroy  roads,  through  this  wild  tanglewood  forest,  most 
of  the  time  in  a  drizzling  rain,  and  we  had  been  much 
delayed  by  the  artillery  trains,  and  it  was  after  midnight 
when  we  reached  our  destination.  The  distance  marched 
must  have  been  twelve  or  more  miles,  and  our  men  became 
greatly  fatigued  towards  the  last. 

It  was  my  first  experience  with  the  regiment  on  the 
march  in  the  field  in  my  new  position  as  major.  As 
adjutant  my  place  had  been  with  the  colonel  at  the  head 
of  the  column.  Now  my  duties  required  me  to  march 
in  the  rear  and  keep  up  the  stragglers.  After  nightfall  it 
became  intensely  dark,  and  at  each  rest  the  men  would 
drop  down  just  where  they  were  and  would  be  instantly 
sound  asleep.  Whether  they  dropped  down  into  mud  or 
not  made  little  difference  to  many  of  them,  for  they  were 
soaking  wet  and  were  so  exhausted  that  they  did  not  care. 
My  troubles  began  when  the  "  forward"  was  sounded,  to 
arouse  these  seeming  logs  and  get  them  on  their  feet  once 
more  and  started.  All  who  were  practically  exhausted 
had  drifted  to  the  rear  and  were  on  my  hands.  We  had 

206 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

a  provost  guard  in  the  rear,  whose  duty  it  was  to  bring 
up  every  man  and  permit  no  straggling,  but  they  were 
in  almost  as  bad  a  plight  as  the  rest  of  the  regiment.  To 
arouse  these  sleeping  men  I  had  occasionally  to  resort 
to  a  smart  blow  with  the  flat  of  my  sword  and  follow  it 
up  with  the  most  energetic  orders  and  entreaties.  An 
appeal  to  their  pluck  and  nerve  was  generally  sufficient, 
and  they  would  summon  new  courage  and  push  manfully 
on.  My  own  condition  was  scarcely  better  than  that  of 
the  men.  I  rode  that  night  considerable  distances  between 
our  halts  for  rest,  sitting  bolt  upright  in  my  saddle  fast 
asleep.  I  had  all  day  alternated  with  some  of  the  men  in 
marching  whilst  they  rode,  and  was  not  only  thoroughly 
tired,  but  wet  through.  The  march  was  much  more  try 
ing  to  us  because  of  our  unseasoned  condition  owing  to 
the  long  winter's  exemption  from  this  exercise.  Fur 
thermore,  we  had  been  marching  towards  the  firing,  and 
were  under  the  nervous  strain  always  incident  to  opera 
tions  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy.  Nothing  will  quicker 
exhaust  men  than  the  nervous  tension  occasioned  by  the 
continued  firing  which  indicates  the  imminence  of  a  battle. 
At  daylight  we  were  aroused  and  under  arms  again. 
We  found  we  were  at  the  head-quarters  of  the  army.  The 
Chancellorsville  House,  which  had  been  vacated  by  its 
occupants,  was  used  for  office  purposes,  and  much  of  the 
open  space  around  it  was  occupied  by  the  tents  of  General 
Hooker  and  staff  and  hospital  tents.  Of  the  latter  there 
were  three  or  four  pitched  so  as  to  connect  with  each 
other,  and  over  them  was  flying  the  yellow  flag  of  the 
corps  hospital.  The  First  and  Third  Divisions  of  our 
Second  Corps  were  massed  in  this  Chancellorsville  square, 

207 


War  from  the  Inside 

beside  Pettit's  battery.  Our  brigade  now  consisted  of 
the  Fourth  New  York,  First  Delaware,  and  our  regiment. 
The  first  named  was  sent  off  on  some  guard  duty,  which 
left  Colonel  Albright,  of  our  regiment,  the  senior  officer 
in  command  of  the  brigade.  The  ominous  rattle  of  mus 
ketry  not  far  away  became  momentarily  more  pro 
nounced,  and  ambulances  and  stretcher-carriers  were  pass 
ing  back  and  forth  to  the  hospitals,  carrying  wounded 
men.  The  dead  body  of  a  regular  army  captain  was  soon 
brought  back  from  the  front,  where  Sykes's  division  of 
regulars  was  sharply  engaged.  I  do  not  know  the  name 
of  this  captain,  but  he  was  a  fine-looking  young  officer. 
He  had  been  killed  by  a  minie-ball  squarely  through  his 
forehead. 

We  were  marching  out  the  plank-road  as  they  brought 
this  body  in.  Passing  out  of  the  clearing,  the  woods  and 
undergrowth  each  side  the  road  was  so  dense  that  we 
could  not  see  into  it  a  half-dozen  steps.  We  had  gone 
possibly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  when  we  were  overtaken  by 
a  staff-officer,  who  in  whispers  ordered  us  to  turn  back, 
regardless  of  orders  from  the  front,  and  get  back  to  the 
Chancellorsville  House  as  rapidly  as  possible,  and  to  do 
so  absolutely  noiselessly;  that  a  heavy  force  of  rebels 
were  in  the  woods  on  both  sides  of  us,  and  we  were  in 
great  danger  of  being  cut  to  pieces  and  captured.  We 
obeyed,  and  he  rapidly  worked  his  way  to  the  front  of 
the  brigade  and  succeeded  very  quickly  in  getting  us  all 
safely  out.  We  formed  line  near  the  Chancellorsville 
House  and  were  resting  on  our  arms  when  I  noticed 
another  brigade  going  down  that  same  road  from  which 
we  had  just  been  so  hurriedly  gotten  out.  The  circum- 

208 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

stance  was  so  strange  that  I  inquired  what  brigade  it  was, 
and  learned  that  it  was  Colonel  (afterwards  Governor) 
James  A.  Beaver's  brigade  of  Hancock's  division  of  our 
corps.  They  had  been  gone  but  a  short  time  when  the 
rebels  opened  upon  them  from  both  sides  of  the  road,  and 
they  were  very  roughly  handled.  Colonel  Beaver  was 
soon  brought  back,  supposed  mortally  wounded.  I  saw 
him  as  he  was  brought  to  the  rear.  It  was  said  he  was 
shot  through  the  body.  Afterwards,  whilst  he  was  gov 
ernor,  I  mentioned  the  circumstance  to  him,  and  asked 
how  he  succeeded  in  fighting  off  the  last  enemy  at  that 
time.  He  said  he  then  fully  believed  his  wound  was  mor 
tal.  The  bullet  had  struck  him  nearly  midway  of  his  body 
and  appeared  to  have  passed  through  and  out  of  his  back, 
and  he  was  bleeding  freely.  He  was  brought  to  the  hos 
pital,  where  the  corps  surgeon — his  own  family  physician 
at  home — found  him,  and  with  an  expression  of  counte 
nance  indicating  the  gravest  fear  proceeded  to  examine  his 
wound.  Suddenly,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  he  exclaimed: 
"  Colonel,  you  are  all  right;  the  ball  has  struck  a  rib  and 
followed  it  around  and  out."  It  was  one  of  the  hundreds 
of  remarkable  freaks  performed  by  those  ugly  minie-balls 
during  the  war.  Why  that  brigade  should  have  been 
allowed  to  march  into  that  ambuscade,  from  which  we 
had  so  narrowly  escaped,  I  could  not  understand.  It  was 
one  of  the  early  faux  pas  of  that  unfortunate  comedy, 
rather  tragedy  of  errors, — battle. 

In  view  of  the  events  of  the  next  two  days,  it  will  be 

interesting  to  recall  the  somewhat  windy  order  published 

to  the  army  by  General  Hooker  on  the  morning  of  the 

ist  of  May,  the  date  of  the  first  day's  battle,  on  which  the 

14  209 


War  from  the  Inside 

events  narrated  in  the  last  chapter  occurred.    This  is  the 

order : 

HEAD-QUARTERS  ARMY  OF  THE  POTOMAC, 
CAMP  NEAR  FALMOUTH,  VA.,  April  30,  1863. 

It  is  with  heartfelt  satisfaction  the  commanding  general  announces 
to  the  army  that  the  operations  of  the  last  three  days  have  deter 
mined  that  our  enemy  must  either  ingloriously  fly  or  come  out  from 
behind  his  defences  and  give  us  battle  on  our  own  ground,  when 
certain  destruction  awaits  him. 

******** 

By  command  of  Major-General  Hooker. 

S.  WILLIAMS, 

Asst.  Adjt.-Gen'l* 

My  recollection  recalls  a  phrase  in  this  order  reading 
something  like  this :  "  We  have  got  the  enemy  where  God 
Almighty  can't  save  him,  and  he  must  either  ingloriously," 
etc.  I  have  been  surprised  not  to  find  it  in  the  records, 
and  my  memory  is  not  alone  in  this  respect,  for  a  lieuten 
ant-colonel  of  Portland,  Me.,  in  his  account  of  this  battle 
alludes  to  Hooker's  blasphemous  order. 

The  purpose  of  this  order  was  to  encourage  the  men 
and  inspire  them  with  the  enthusiasm  of  forthcoming  vic 
tory.  But  when  we  consider  that  the  portion  of  the  army 
operating  around  Chancellorsville  was  at  that  very 
moment  apparently  as  thoroughly  caged  up  in  a  wilderness 
of  almost  impenetrable  undergrowth,  which  made  it  im 
possible  to  move  troops,  and  into  which  one  could  not  see 
a  dozen  feet,  as  though  they  were  actually  behind  iron 
bars,  it  will  be  seen  how  little  ground  there  was  for 
encouragement.  I  can  think  of  no  better  comparison  of 
the  situation  than  to  liken  it  to  a  fleet  of  ships  enveloped 
in  a  dense  fog  endeavoring  to  operate  against  another 
having  the  advantage  of  the  open. 

210 


The  Battle  of  ChancellorsviUe 

It  will  be  remembered  that  when  this  movement  com 
menced  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  numbered  from  one 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand  to  one  hundred  and  thirty 
thousand  men,  about  double  the  opposing  rebel  force. 
Hooker  divided  this  army,  taking  with  him  four  corps, 
numbering  probably  seventy  thousand  men,  to  operate 
from  ChancellorsviUe  towards  Fredericksburg,  and 
leaving  three  corps,  about  fifty  thousand  men,  under 
Sedgwick,  to  move  upon  the  latter  place  from  below.  The 
purpose  was  to  get  Lee's  army  between  these  two  forces 
and  crush  him.  All  historians  of  this  battle  agree  that 
up  to  a  certain  point  Hooker's  strategy  was  most  ad 
mirable.  General  Pleasanton,  who  commanded  our  cav 
alry  forces  in  that  action,  says  that  up  to  a  certain  point 
the  movement  on  ChancellorsviUe  was  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  in  the  annals  of  war.  He  put  that  point  at  the 
close  of  Thursday,  April  30.  He  had  made  a  full  recon- 
noissance  of  all  that  country  and  had  informed  General 
Hooker  of  the  nature  of  the  ground,  that  for  a  depth  of 
from  four  to  five  miles  it  was  all  unbroken  tanglewood 
of  the  densest  undergrowth,  in  which  it  was  impossible  to 
manoeuvre  an  army  or  to  know  anything  of  the  move 
ments  of  the  enemy;  that  beyond  this  wilderness  the 
country  was  open  and  well  adapted  to  military  movements, 
and  he  had  taken  occasion  to  urge  upon  him  the  impor 
tance  of  moving  forward  at  once,  so  as  to  meet  the  enemy 
in  open  ground,  but  his  information  and  advice,  he  tells 
us,  fell  upon  leaden  ears. 

Lee  had,  up  to  this  time,  no  information  of  the  move 
ment  upon  ChancellorsviUe,  having  been  wholly  occupied 
with  Sedgwick  at  Fredericksburg.  The  former  was 

211 


War  from  the  Inside 

therefore  a  complete  surprise  to  him.  The  "  golden 
moment,"  according  to  Pleasanton,  to  move  forward  anr 
carry  the  battle  out  into  the  open,  where  the  army  could 
have  been  handled  and  would  have  had  a  chance,  was  on 
that  day,  as  instantly  the  movement  was  disclosed,  the 
enemy,  being  familiar  with  every  foot  of  the  country, 
would  detach  a  sufficient  force  to  operate  in  the  open,  and 
along  the  edge  of  the  wilderness  could  keep  us  practically 
bottled  up  there  and  beat  us  in  detail ;  and  that  is  precisely 
what  seems  to  have  been  done.  The  inexplicable  question 
is,  Why  did  fighting  "  Joe  Hooker,"  with  seventy  thou 
sand  as  good  troops  as  ever  fired  a  gun,  sit  down  in  the 
middle  of  that  tanglewood  forest  and  allow  Lee  to  make 
a  monkey  of  him  while  Sedgwick  was  doing  such  mag 
nificent  work  below  ? 

Two  distinguished  participants  in  all  these  events  hold 
ing  high  commands,  namely,  General  Alfred  Pleasanton, 
quoted  above,  and  General  Doubleday,  commanding  First 
Division,  First  Army  Corps,  have  written  articles  upon 
this  battle,  agreeing  on  the  feasibility  and  brilliancy  of  the 
movement,  but  by  inference  and  things  unsaid  have  prac 
tically  left  the  same  question  suspended  in  the  air.  It  is 
possible  the  correct  answer  should  not  now  be  given. 

To  return  to  our  own  doings,  on  that  Friday,  ist  of 
May,  our  division  was  drawn  up  in  line  of  battle  in  front 
of  the  Chancellorsville  House,  and  we  were  permitted  to 
rest  on  our  arms.  This  meant  that  any  moment  we  might 
be  expected  to  move  forward.  The  battle  was  now  on  in 
earnest.  Heavy  firing  was  heard  some  miles  below  us, 
which  was  Sedgwick's  work  at  Fredericksburg.  Nearer 
by  there  was  cannonading  and  more  or  less  severe  mus- 

212 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

ketry  firing.  Ambulances  and  stretcher-carriers  were  con 
stantly  coming  back  from  the  front  with  wounded  soldiers, 
taking  them  to  the  field  hospital,  which  was  just  in  our 
rear,  and  we  could  see  the  growing  piles  of  amputated 
legs  and  arms  which  were  thrown  outside  with  as  little 
care  as  if  they  were  so  many  pieces  of  wood.  We  were 
evidently  waiting  for  something,  nobody  seemed  to  know 
what.  Everything  appeared  to  be  "  at  heads."  Our  corps 
and  division  commanders,  Couch,  Hancock,  and  French, 
with  their  staffs,  were  in  close  proximity  to  the  troops, 
and  all  seemed  to  be  in  a  condition  of  nervous  uncertainty. 
What  might  be  progressing  in  those  black  woods  in  front, 
was  the  question.  A  nearer  volley  of  musketry  would 
start  everybody  up,  and  we  would  stand  arms  in  hand,  as 
if  expecting  the  unseen  enemy  to  burst  through  the  woods 
upon  us.  Then  the  firing  would  slacken  and  we  would 
drop  down  again  for  a  time. 

In  the  mean  time  shells  were  screeching  over  us  con 
tinually,  and  an  occasional  bullet  would  whiz  uncom 
fortably  near.  The  nervous  strain  under  such  conditions 
may  be  imagined.  This  state  of  affairs  continued  all 
through  Friday  night  and  most  of  Saturday.  Of  course, 
sleep  was  out  of  the  question  for  any  of  our  officers.  On 
Thursday  and  Friday  nights  the  men  got  snatches  of 
sleep,  lying  on  their  arms,  between  the  times  all  were 
aroused  against  some  fresh  alarm. 

On  Saturday  some  beef  cattle  were  driven  up  and 
slaughtered  in  the  open  square  in  front  of  our  lines,  and 
the  details  were  progressing  with  the  work  of  preparing 
the  meat  for  issue  when  the  storm  of  disaster  of  Saturday 
afternoon  burst  upon  us  and  their  work  was  rudely  inter- 

213 


War  from  the  Inside 

rupted.  We  had  anxious  premonitions  of  this  impending 
storm  for  some  hours.  Captain  Pettit,  who  commanded 
the  famous  battery  of  that  name,  which  was  posted  imme 
diately  in  our  rear,  had  spent  much  of  his  time  in  the  fore 
noon  of  Saturday  high  up  in  a  tall  tree  which  stood  just 
in  front  of  the  Chancellorsville  House  and  close  to  our 
line,  with  his  field  glass  reconnoitring.  Several  times  he 
had  come  down  with  information  that  heavy  bodies  of  the 
enemy  were  massing  for  a  blow  upon  our  front  and  where 
he  believed  they  would  strike.  This  information,  we  were 
told,  he  imparted  to  Hooker's  chief  of  staff,  and  begged 
permission  to  open  at  long  range  with  his  rifled  guns,  but 
no  attention  was  paid  to  him.  I  saw  him  up  the  tree  and 
heard  some  of  his  ejaculating,  which  indicated  that  he 
was  almost  wild  with  apprehension  of  what  was  coming. 
Once  on  coming  down  he  remarked  to  General  Hancock 
that  we  would  "  catch  h — 1  in  less  than  an  hour."  The 
latter  seemed  to  be  thoroughly  alive  to  the  situation  and 
exceedingly  anxious,  as  were  Couch  and  French,  to  do 
something  to  prepare  for  what  was  coming,  yet  nothing 
more  was  done  until  suddenly  the  firing,  which  had  been 
growing  in  volume  and  intensity  and  gradually  drawing 
nearer,  developed  in  a  storm  of  musketry  of  terrific  fury 
immediately  in  our  right  front,  apparently  not  more  than 
three  hundred  yards  away. 

We  could  not  see  a  thing.  What  there  might  be  be 
tween  us  and  it,  or  whether  it  was  the  onslaught  of  the 
enemy  or  the  firing  of  our  troops,  we  knew  not.  But  we 
had  not  long  to  wait.  Soon  stragglers,  few  in  numbers, 
began  to  appear,  emerging  from  the  woods  into  our  clear 
ing,  and  then  more  of  them,  these  running,  and  then 

214 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

almost  at  once  an  avalanche  of  panic-stricken,  flying  men 
without  arms,  without  knapsacks,  many  bareheaded, 
swearing,  cursing,  a  wild,  frenzied  mob  tearing  to  the 
rear.  Instantly  they  began  to  appear,  General  Couch, 
commanding  our  corps,  took  in  the  situation  and  de 
ployed  two  divisions  to  catch  and  hold  the  fugitives. 
Part  of  the  Third  Corps  was  also  deployed  on  our  left. 
We  were  ordered  to  charge  bayonets  and  permit  no  man 
to  pass  through  our  ranks.  We  soon  had  a  seething, 
howling  mob  of  Dutchmen  twenty  to  thirty  feet  in  depth 
in  front  of  our  line,  holding  them  back  on  the  points  of 
our  bayonets,  and  still  they  came.  Every  officer  of  our 
division,  with  drawn  sword  and  pistol,  was  required  to 
use  all  possible  endeavor  to  hold  them,  and  threatening  to 
shoot  the  first  man  who  refused  to  stand  as  ordered.  Gen 
eral  French  and  staff  were  galloping  up  and  down  our 
division  line  assisting  in  this  work. 

In  the  mean  time  another  line  of  battle  was  rapidly 
thrown  in  between  these  fugitives  and  the  woods  to  stay 
the  expected  advance  of  the  enemy.  This  was  the  famous 
break  of  the  Eleventh  Corps,  starting  with  Blenker's 
division  and  finally  extending  through  the  whole  corps, 
some  fifteen  thousand  men.  It  seemed  as  though  the 
whole  army  was  being  stampeded.  We  soon  had  a  vast 
throng  of  these  fugitives  dammed  up  in  our  front,  a  ter 
rible  menace  to  the  integrity  of  our  own  line  as  well  as 
of  all  in  our  rear.  We  were  powerless  to  do  anything 
should  the  enemy  break  through,  and  were  in  great  danger 
of  being  ourselves  swept  away  and  disintegrated  by  this 
frantic  mob.  All  this  time  the  air  was  filled  with  shriek 
ing  shells  from  our  own  batteries  as  well  as  those  of  the 

215 


War  from  the  Inside 

enemy,  doing,  however,  little  damage  beyond  adding  to 
the  terror  of  the  situation.  The  noise  was  deafening. 
Pandemonium  seemed  to  reign  supreme  in  our  front.  Our 
line,  as  well  as  that  of  the  Third  Corps  on  our  left,  was 
holding  firm  as  a  rock.  I  noticed  a  general  officer,  I 
thought  it  was  General  Sickles,  was  very  conspicuous  in 
the  vigor  of  his  efforts  to  hold  the  line.  A  couple  of  fugi 
tives  had  broken  through  his  line  and  were  rapidly  going 
to  the  rear.  I  heard  him  order  them  to  halt  and  turn 
back.  One  of  them  turned  and  cast  a  look  at  him,  but 
paid  no  further  attention  to  his  order.  He  repeated  the* 
order  in  stentorian  tones,  this  time  with  his  pistol  levelled, 
but  it  was  not  obeyed,  and  he  fired,  dropping  the  first  man 
dead  in  his  tracks.  He  again  ordered  the  other  man  to 
halt,  and  it  was  sullenly  obeyed.  These  men  seemed  to 
be  almost  stupid,  deaf  to  orders  or  entreaty  in  their  frenzy. 
An  incident  in  our  own  front  will  illustrate.  I  noticed 
some  extra  commotion  near  our  colors  and  rushed  to  see 
the  cause.  I  found  an  officer  with  drawn  sword  threaten 
ing  to  run  the  color-sergeant  through  if  he  was  not 
allowed  to  pass.  He  was  a  colonel  and  evidently  a  Ger 
man.  My  orders  to  him  to  desist  were  answered  with  a 
curse,  and  I  had  to  thrust  my  pistol  into  his  face,  with  an 
energetic  threat  to  blow  his  head  off  if  he  made  one  more 
move,  before  he  seemed  to  come  to  his  senses.  I  then 
appealed  to  him  to  see  what  an  example  he  as  an  officer 
was  setting,  and  demanded  that  he  should  get  to  work 
and  help  to  stem  the  flight  of  his  men  rather  than  assist 
in  their  demoralization.  To  his  credit  be  it  said,  he  at 
once  regained  his  better  self,  and  thenceforth  did  splendid 
work  up  and  down  amongst  these  German  fugitives,  and 

216 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

later  on,  when  they  were  moved  to  the  rear,  he  rendered 
very  material  assistance.  I  did  not  learn  who  he  was, 
but  he  was  a  splendid-looking  officer  and  spoke  both  Eng 
lish  and  German  fluently. 

One  may  ask  why  those  men  should  have  lost  their 
heads  so  completely.  To  answer  the  question  intelli 
gently,  one  needs  to  put  oneself  into  their  place.'  The 
facts  as  we  were  told  at  the  time  were :  That  the 
Eleventh  Corps,  which  contained  two  divisions  of  Ger 
man  troops,  under  Schurz  and  Blenker  (I  think  Stein- 
wehr  commanded  the  latter  division  in  this  action),  was 
posted  on  the  right  of  Hooker's  line  in  the  woods,  some 
distance  in  front  and  to  the  right  of  the  Chancellorsville 
House.  That  at  the  time  Stonewall  Jackson  made  his 
famous  atttack,  above  referred  to,  he  caught  one  of  those 
divisions  "  napping" — off  their  guard.  They  had  stacked 
their  guns  and  knapsacks,  and  were  back  some  twenty 
yards,  making  their  evening  coffee,  when  suddenly  the 
rebel  skirmishers  burst  through  the  brush  upon  them, 
followed  immediately  by  the  main  line,  and  before  they 
realized  it  were  between  these  troops  and  their  guns. 
Consternation  reigned  supreme  in  an  instant  and  a 
helter-skelter  flight  followed.  Jackson  followed  up  this 
advantage  with  his  usual  impetuosity,  and  although  the 
other  divisions  of  the  Eleventh  made  an  effort  to  hold 
their  ground,  this  big  hole  in  the  line  was  fatal  to 
them  and  all  were  quickly  swept  away.  Of  course, 
the  division  and  brigade  commanders  were  responsible 
for  that  unpardonable  carelessness.  No  valid  excuse  can 
be  made  for  such  criminal  want  of  watchfulness,  espe 
cially  for  troops  occupying  a  front  line,  and  which  had 

217 


War  from  the  Inside 

heard,  or  should  have  heard,  as  we  a  half  mile  farther  in 
the  rear  had,  all  the  premonitions  of  the  coming  storm. 
But  it  was  an  incident  showing  the  utter  folly  of  the 
attempt  to  maintain  a  line  of  battle  in  the  midst  of  a 
dense  undergrowth,  through  which  nothing  could  be  seen. 
It  is  exceedingly  doubtful  whether  they  could  have  held 
their  line  against  Jackson's  onset  under  those  conditions 
had  they  been  on  the  alert,  for  he  would  have  been  on 
and  over  them  almost  before  they  could  have  seen  him. 
To  resist  such  an  onset  needs  time  to  deliver  a  steady 
volley  and  then  be  ready  with  the  bayonet. 

It  was  towards  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  when  this 
flying  mob  struck  our  lines,  and  darkness  had  fallen 
before  we  were  rid  of  them  and  something  like  order  had 
been  restored.  In  the  mean  time  it  certainly  seemed  as 
if  everything  was  going  to  pieces.  I  got  a  little  idea  of 
what  a  panic-stricken  army  means.  The  fearful  thing 
about  it  was,  we  knew  it  was  terribly  contagious,  and 
that  with  all  the  uncertainties  in  that  black  wilderness 
from  which  this  mob  came  and  the  pandemonium  in  prog 
ress  all  about  us,  it  might  seize  our  own  troops  and  we  be 
swept  away  to  certain  destruction  in  spite  of  all  our 
efforts.  It  is  said  death  rides  on  horseback  with  a  fleeing 
army.  Nothing  can  be  more  horrible.  Hence  a  panic 
must  be  stopped,  cost  what  it  may.  Night  undoubtedly 
came  to  our  rescue  with  this  one. 

One  of  the  most  heroic  deeds  I  saw  done  to  help  stem 
the  fleeing  tide  of  men  and  restore  courage  was  not  the 
work  of  a  battery,  nor  a  charge  of  cavalry,  but  the  charge 
of  a  band  of  music !  The  band  of  the  Fourteenth  Con 
necticut  went  right  out  into  that  open  space  between  our 

218 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

new  line  and  the  rebels,  with  shot  and  shell  crashing  all 
about  them,  and  played  "  The  Star-Spangled  Banner," 
the  "  Red,  White,  and  Blue,"  and  "  Yankee  Doodle,"  and 
repeated  them  for  fully  twenty  minutes.  They  never 
played  better.  Did  that  require  nerve?  It  was  undoubt 
edly  the  first  and  only  band  concert  ever  given  under 
such  conditions.  Never  was  American  grit  more  finely 
illustrated.  Its  effect  upon  the  men  was  magical.  Im 
agine  the  strains  of  our  grand  national  hymn,  "  The  Star- 
Spangled  Banner,"  suddenly  bursting  upon  your  ears  out 
of  that  horrible  pandemonium  of  panic-born  yells,  min 
gled  with  the  roaring  of  musketry  and  the  crashing  of 
artillery.  To  what  may  it  be  likened  ?  The  carol  of  birds 
in  the  midst  of  the  blackest  thunder-storm?  No  simile 
can  be  adequate.  Its  strains  were  clear  and  thrilling  for 
a  moment,  then  smothered  by  that  fearful  din,  an  instant 
later  sounding  bold  and  clear  again,  as  if  it  would  fear 
lessly  emphasize  the  refrain,  "  Our  flag  is  still  there." 


219 


CHAPTER   XVI 


THE  BATTLE  OF   CHANCELLORSVILLE — CONTINUED 

RECURRING  again  to  the  incident  of  the  band  playing 
out  there  between  the  two  hostile  lines  in  the  midst  of  that 
panic  of  the  Eleventh  Corps,  it  was  a  remarkable  circum 
stance  that  none  of  them  were  killed.  I  think  one  or' 
two  were  slightly  wounded  by  pieces  of  exploding  shells, 
and  one  or  two  of  their  instruments  carried  away  scars 
from  that  scene.  The  rebels  did  not  follow  up  their  ad 
vantage,  as  we  expected,  probably  owing  to  the  effective 
work  of  our  batteries,  otherwise  they  would  all  have  been 
either  killed  or  captured.  None  of  the  enemy  came  into 
our  clearing  that  I  saw.  We  must  have  corralled  upward 
of  eight  thousand  of  our  demoralized  men.  Some  had 
their  arms,  most  of  them  had  none,  which  confirmed  the 
story  of  their  surprise  narrated  in  the  last  chapter.  They 
were  marched  to  the  rear  under  guard,  and  thus  the 
further  spread  of  the  panic  was  avoided. 

It  was  now  dark  and  the  firing  ceased,  but  only  for  a 
few  moments,  for  the  two  picket-lines  were  posted  so 
close  together,  neither  knowing  exactly  where  the  other 
was,  that  both  were  exceedingly  nervous ;  and  the  slight 
est  movement,  the  stepping  of  a  picket,  the  scurry  of  a 
rabbit,  would  set  the  firing  going  again.  First  it  would 
be  the  firing  of  a  single  musket,  then  the  quick  rattle  of 
a  half-dozen,  then  the  whole  line  with  the  reserves,  for  all 

220 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

were  on  the  line  together  there;  and  then  the  batteries, 
of  which  there  were  now  at  least  a  half-dozen  massed 
right  around  us,  would  open  with  terrific  vigor,  all  firing 
into  the  darkness,  whence  the  enemy  was  supposed  to  be 
coming.  This  continued  at  short  intervals  all  night  long. 

After  the  mob  of  fugitives  had  been  disposed  of,  our 
division  had  formed  in  line  of  battle  directly  in  front  of 
the  Chancellorsville  House,  supporting  the  provisional 
line  which  had  been  hurriedly  thrown  in  to  cover  the 
break  of  the  Eleventh  Corps,  and  we  were  "  resting  (?) 
on  our  arms."  At  each  of  these  alarms  every  man  was 
instantly  on  his  feet,  with  guns  at  a  "  ready."  General 
French  and  staff  were  close  to  us,  and  General  Couch 
and  his  staff  only  a  few  feet  away.  All  were  exceedingly 
nervous  and  keenly  on  the  alert.  It  was  a  night  of  ter 
rific  experience  long  to  be  remembered. 

The  nervous  strain  upon  all  was  simply  awful.  We 
knew  that  the  Eleventh  Corps  had  been  stampeded  by 
the  impetuous  charge  of  Stonewall  Jackson,  and  we  felt 
sure  he  would  seek  to  reap  the  fruits  of  the  break  he  had 
made  by  an  effort  to  pierce  our  centre,  and  this  we  would 
have  to  meet  and  repel  when  it  came.  We  did  not  then 
know  that  in  the  general  mix-up  of  that  fateful  afternoon 
that  able  and  intrepid  leader  had  himself  fallen  and  was 
then  dying.  This  fact,  fortunate  for  us,  undoubtedly 
accounts  for  the  failure  of  the  expected  onset  to  mate 
rialize.  We  could  probably  have  held  him,  for  we  had 
two  divisions  of  the  Second  Corps  and  part  of  the  Third 
Corps  in  double  lines,  all  comparatively  fresh,  and  before 
midnight  the  First  Corps  was  in  position  on  our  right. 
But  the  slaughter  would  have  been  horrible, 

221 


War  from  the  Inside 

After  midnight  these  outbursts  became  less  frequent, 
and  we  officers  lay  down  with  the  men  and  tried  to  sleep. 
I  do  not  think  any  of  our  general  officers  or  their  staffs 
even  sat  down  that  whole  night,  so  apprehensive  were 
they  of  the  descent  of  the  rebels  upon  our  position.  I 
said  in  the  last  chapter  that  on  Saturday  morning  some 
beef  cattle  were  slaughtered  near  our  line  for  issue  to 
our  division;  that  the  work  of  distribution  had  not  been 
completed  before  the  panic  came,  and  then  these  carcasses 
of  beef  were  between  ours  and  the  rebel  line  on  "  debatable 
ground."  This  was  too  much  for  some  of  our  men,  ancf 
two  or  three  crawled  out  to  them  during  the  night  and 
helped  themselves  to  such  cuts  as  they  could  make  from 
our  side.  One  party  next  day  told  of  being  surprised  by 
hearing  cutting  on  the  other  side  of  the  beef,  and  found, 
on  investigating,  that  a  "  Johnny"  was  there,  when  the 
following  colloquy  took  place : 

"  Hello,  Johnny,  are  ye  there?" 

"  Yes,  Yank ;  too  bad  to  let  this  '  fresh'  spoil.  I  say, 
Yank,  lend  me  your  knife,  mine's  a  poor  one.  We  'uns 
and  you  'uns  is  all  right  here.  Yank,  I'll  help  you  if 
you'll  help  me,  and  we'll  get  all  we  want." 

The  knife  was  passed  over,  and  these  two  foes  helped 
each  other  in  that  friendly  darkness.  How  much  actual 
truth  there  was  in  this  story  I  do  not  know,  but  I  do 
know  that  there  was  considerable  fresh  beef  among  the 
men  in  the  morning,  and  it  was  not  at  all  unlikely  that 
the  Johnnies  also  profited  by  the  presence  of  that  "  fresh" 
between  the  lines.  Soldiers  of  either  army  would  run 
almost  any  risk  to  get  a  bit  of  fresh  beef. 

The  next  morning  we  were  ordered  to  pile  up  our 

222 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

knapsacks  and  make  a  breastwork  of  them  for  such  pro 
tection  as  they  might  afford,  in  anticipation  of  the  still 
expected  attack.  We  managed  to  make  a  cup  of  coffee 
and  eat  a  hardtack  without  getting  off  our  guard  for  an 
instant,  and  about  ten  o'clock  the  First  Brigade,  now 
Carroll's,  and  ours,  consisting  of  two  regiments  only,  the 
First  Delaware  and  ours,  under  command  of  our  Colonel 
Albright,  were  ordered  forward  into  the  woods  to  the 
right  of  the  Chancellorsville  House.  This  was  the  open 
ing  of  the  third  day's  battle.  We  moved  forward  in 
excellent  line  until  we  struck  the  edge  of  the  woods.  The 
moment  the  crackling  of  the  brush  under  our  feet  apprised 
the  enemy  of  our  advance  we  received  a  heavy  volley, 
which  must  have  been  very  hurriedly  delivered,  for  it 
passed  over  our  heads,  not  a  man  being  hit,  I  think.  The 
morning  was  lowering  and  misty  and  the  air  very  light, 
so  that  the  smoke  made  by  the  rebel  volley,  not  more 
than  fifty  yards  away,  hung  like  a  chalk  line  and  indicated 
their  exact  position.  The  sudden  retirement  of  our  lieu 
tenant-colonel  at  this  point  placed  the  command  of  the 
regiment  on  me,  and  I  shouted  to  the  men  to  aim  below 
that  line  of  smoke  and  then  gave  the  order,  fire  by  bat 
talion,  and  we  emptied  our  guns  as  one  man,  reloaded, 
and  receiving  no  reply  to  our  volley,  moved  forward 
through  the  thick  brush  and  undergrowth.  We  soon 
came  upon  the  rebel  line,  and  a  dreadful  sight  it  was. 
The  first  officer  I  saw  was  a  rebel  captain,  an  Irishman. 
He  ejaculated,  "  We're  all  killed !  We're  all  killed !"  and 
offered  to  surrender.  The  commanding  officer  must  have 
suffered  the  fate  of  his  men.  Most  of  them  were  either 
killed  or  wounded.  The  hundred  or  so  living  promptly 

223 


War  from  the  Inside 

threw  down  their  arms,  and  Colonel  Albright  sent  them 
to  the  rear  under  guard.  This  Irish  captain  vouchsafed 
the  remark  sotto  voce  that  he  was  glad  to  be  captured, 
that  he'd  been  trying  to  get  out  of  the  d — n  Confederacy 
for  a  year.  Our  battalion  volley  had  exactly  reached  its 
mark  and  had  done  fearful  execution.  There  must  have 
been  more  than  two  hundred  lying  there  either  dead  or 
wounded,  marking  their  line  of  battle.  This  was  the 
only  instance  in  my  war  experience  where  we  delivered 
a  volley  as  a  battalion.  The  usual  order  of  firing  in  line 
of  battle  is  by  "  file,"  each  man  firing  as  rapidly  as  he 
can  effectively,  without  regard  to  any  other  man.  The 
volley  they  had  delivered  at  us  was  a  battalion  volley, 
and  it  would  have  effectively  disposed  of  our  advance  had 
it  been  well  delivered.  Fortunately  for  us,  it  was  not, 
and  their  smoke-line  gave  us  the  opportunity  to  deliver 
a  very  effective  counter-stroke.  It  had  to  be  quickly  done, 
we  were  so  close  together.  There  was  no  time  to  medi 
tate.  It  was  us  or  them.  Instantly  I  resolved  to  give 
them  all  we  could,  aiming  well  under  their  line  of  smoke, 
and  take  our  chances  with  the  bayonet  if  necessary.  The 
order  was  calmly  given  and  the  volley  was  coolly  deliv 
ered.  I  have  never  heard  a  better  one.  The  value  of 
coolness  in  delivering  and  the  effectiveness  of  such  a 
volley  were  clearly  demonstrated  in  this  instance. 

We  again  moved  forward,  working  our  way  through 
the  tangled  undergrowth,  and  had  gained  probably  five 
or  six  hundred  yards  when  we  encountered  another  line, 
and  sharp  firing  began  on  both  sides.  We  could  see  the 
enemy  dodging  behind  trees  and  stumps  not  more  than 
one  hundred  yards  away.  We  also  utilized  the  same 

224 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

shelter,  and  therefore  suffered  comparatively  little.  Sud 
denly  I  found  bullets  beginning  to  come  from  our  left 
and  rear  as  well  as  from  our  front.  Two  of  these  bul 
lets  had  been  aimed  at  me  as  I  stood  behind  a  small 
tree  on  our  line.  The  first  knowledge  I  had  of  them  was 
from  the  splinters  of  bark  in  my  face  from  the  tree,  first 
one  and  then  the  other  in  quick  succession  as  the  bullets 
struck,  not  more  than  three  inches  from  my  head.  They 
were  fairly  good  shots.  I  was  thankful  they  were  no 
better.  But  now  I  had  to  move  a  couple  of  companies  to 
the  left  to  meet  this  flank  attack.  It  did  not  prove  a 
serious  matter,  and  the  enemy  was  quickly  driven  back. 
The  same  thing  was  tried  shortly  after  on  our  right  flank, 
and  was  again  disposed  of  the  same  way.  They  were 
probably  groups  of  sharpshooters  hunting  for  our  officers. 
One  of  them,  I  happened  to  know,  never  went  back,  for  I 
saw  one  of  our  sergeants  kill  him.  I  was  at  that  moment 
standing  by  him,  when  he  clapped  his  hand  to  his  ear 
and  exclaimed,  "  That  was  a  '  hot  one/  "  as  a  bullet  just 
ticked  it.  "  There  is  the  devil  who  did  it.  See  him 
behind  that  bush?"  and  with  that  he  aimed  and  fired. 
The  fellow  rolled  over  dead. 

We  soon  had  the  better  of  this  fighting  and  our  oppo 
nents  withdrew.  We  seemed  now  to  be  isolated.  We 
must  have  been  nearly  a  half  mile  from  where  we  entered 
the  woods.  We  could  not  see  nor  hear  of  any  troops  on 
our  immediate  right  or  left.  Colonel  Albright  came  back 
to  consult  as  to  what  was  best  to  be  done  now.  The  brush 
and  undergrowth  were  exceedingly  dense.  What  there 
might  be  on  our  right  or  left  we  could  not  know  without 
sending  skirmishers  out.  The  colonel  said  his  orders 
15  225 


War  from  the  Inside 

were  to  advance  and  engage  the  enemy.  No  orders  had 
come  to  him  since  our  advance  commenced,  two  hours 
and  more  before.  We  had  met  and  beaten  two  lines  of 
the  enemy.  Should  we  continue  the  advance  or  retire 
and  get  further  orders?  My  advice  was  to  retire;  that 
with  our  small  force,  not  more  than  five  hundred  men, 
isolated  in  that  dense  wood,  we  were  liable  to  be  gobbled 
up.  The  colonel  agreed  with  this  view  and  ordered  the 
line  faced  about  and  marched  to  the  rear.  I  mention  this 
consultation  over  the  situation  because  here  we  were, 
two  young  men,  who  knew  almost  nothing  about  mili* 
tary  matters  beyond  obeying  orders,  suddenly  called  upon 
to  exercise  judgment  in  a  critical  situation.  Bravery  sug 
gested  push  ahead  and  fight.  To  retire  savored  of  over- 
prudence.  Nevertheless,  it  seemed  to  us  we  had  no  busi 
ness  remaining  out  there  without  connection  with  other 
troops  on  either  right  or  left,  and  this  decided  the  colonel 
to  order  the  retreat. 

We  moved  back  in  line  of  battle  in  excellent  order  and 
quite  leisurely,  having  no  opposition  and,  so  far  as  we 
knew,  no  troops  following  us.  We  came  out  into  the 
clearing  just  where  we  had  entered  the  woods  two  hours 
before.  But  here  we  met  a  scene  that  almost  froze  our 
blood.  During  our  absence  some  half-dozen  batteries, 
forty  or  more  guns,  had  been  massed  here.  Hurried 
earthworks  had  been  thrown  up,  covering  the  knapsacks 
our  brigade  had  left  there  when  we  advanced.  These 
guns  were  not  forty  yards  away  and  were  just  waiting 
the  order  to  open  on  those  woods  right  where  we  were. 
As  we  emerged  from  the  brush,  our  colors,  fortunately, 
were  a  little  in  advance,  and  showed  through  before  the 

226 


The  Battle  of  Chaneellorsville 

line  appeared.  Their  timely  appearance,  we  were  told, 
saved  us  from  being  literally  blown  to  pieces  by  those 
batteries.  A  second  later  the  fatal  order  would  have  been 
given  and  our  brigade  would  have  been  wiped  out  of 
existence  by  our  own  guns ! 

As  we  came  out  of  the  woods  an  aide  galloped  down 
to  us,  his  face  perfectly  livid,  and  in  a  voice  portraying 
the  greatest  excitement  shouted  to  Colonel  Albright: 
"  What  in  h — 1  and  d-mnation  are  you  doing  here  ?  Get 
out  of  here!  Those  woods  are  full  of  rebel  troops,  and 
we  are  just  waiting  to  open  on  them."  Albright  replied 
very  coolly,  "  Save  your  ammunition.  There  is  not  a 
rebel  within  a  half  mile,  for  we  have  just  marched  back 
that  distance  absolutely  unmolested.  Why  haven't  you 
sent  us  orders?  We  went  in  here  two  hours  ago,  and 
not  an  order  have  we  received  since."  He  replied,  "  We 
have  sent  a  dozen  officers  in  to  you  with  orders,  and  they 
all  reported  that  you  had  been  captured."  Albright  an 
swered,  "  They  were  a  lot  of  cowards,  for  there  hasn't 
been  a  minute  since  we  advanced  that  an  officer  could  not 
have  come  directly  to  us.  There  is  something  wrong 
about  this.  I  will  go  and  see  General  Hooker."  And 
directing  me  to  move  the  troops  away  from  the  front  of 
those  guns,  he  started  for  General  Hooker's  head-quar 
ters,  only  a  short  distance  away.  As  I  was  passing  the 
right  of  that  line  of  batteries  a  voice  hailed  me,  and  I 
turned,  and  there  stood  one  of  my  old  Scranton  friends, 
Captain  Frank  P.  Amsden,  in  command  of  his  battery. 
Said  he,  as  he  gripped  my  hand,  "  Boy,  you  got  out  of 
those  woods  just  in  time.  Our  guns  are  double-shotted 
with  grape  and  canister;  the  word  '  fire'  was  just  on  my 

227 


War  from  the  Inside 

lips  when  your  colors  appeared."  I  saw  his  gunners 
standing  with  their  hands  on  the  lanyards.  After  forty 
years  my  blood  almost  creeps  as  I  recall  that  narrow 
escape. 

We  now  moved  to  the  rear  across  the  plank-road  from 
the  Chancellorsville  House  in  the  woods,  where  we  sup 
ported  Hancock's  line.  Colonel  Albright  soon  returned 
from  his  visit  to  Hooker's  head-quarters.  His  account 
of  that  visit  was  most  remarkable,  and  was  substantially 
as  follows :  "  I  scratched  on  the  flap  of  the  Hooker  head 
quarters'  tent  and  instantly  an  officer  appeared  and  asked' 
what  was  wanted.  I  said  I  must  see  General  Hooker, 
that  I  had  important  information  for  him.  He  said, 
'  You  cannot  see  General  Hooker ;  I  am  chief  of  staff ; 
any  information  you  have  for  the  commanding  general 
should  be  given  to  me.'  I  said,  '  I  must  see  General 
Hooker,'  and  with  that  pushed  myself  by  him  into  the 
tent,  and  there  lay  General  Hooker,  apparently  dead 
drunk.  His  face  and  position  gave  every  indication  of 
that  condition,  and  I  turned  away  sick  and  disgusted." 
It  was  subsequently  stated  that  General  Hooker  was  un 
conscious  at  that  time  from  the  concussion  of  a  shell. 
That  he  was  standing  on  the  porch  of  the  Chancellors 
ville  House,  leaning  against  one  of  its  supports,  when  a 
shell  struck  it,  rendering  him  unconscious.  The  incident 
narrated  above  occurred  about  one  P.M.  on  Sunday, 
May  3.  The  army  was  practically  without  a  commander 
from  this  time  until  after  sundown  of  that  day,  when 
General  Hooker  reappeared  and  in  a  most  conspicuous 
manner  rode  around  between  the  lines  of  the  two  armies. 
If  he  was  physically  disabled,  why  was  not  the  fact  made 

228 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

known  at  once  to  the  next  officer  in  rank,  whose  duty  it 
would  have  been  to  have  assumed  command  of  the  army, 
and  if  possible  stem  the  tide  of  defeat  now  rapidly  over 
whelming  us?  A  half-day  of  most  precious  time  would 
have  been  saved.  That  this  was  not  done  I  happen  to 
know  from  the  following  circumstances. 

In  our  new  position  we  were  only  about  fifty  yards 
behind  General  Hancock's  line.  The  head-quarters  at 
this  time  of  General  Couch,  commanding  our  corps;  of 
General  French,  commanding  our  division,  and  of  Gen 
eral  Hancock  were  all  at  the  right  of  our  regiment,  behind 
our  line.  These  generals  and  their  staffs  were  resting, 
as  were  our  troops,  and  they  were  sitting  about,  only  a 
few  feet  away  from  us.  We  therefore  heard  much  of 
their  conversation.  Directly  General  Howard  joined 
them.  I  well  remember  his  remarks  concerning  the  be 
havior  of  his  corps  on  the  previous  afternoon.  His  cha 
grin  was  punctured  with  the  advice  of  old  French  to 
shoot  a  few  dozen  of  them  for  example's  sake.  Naturally, 
the  chief  subject  of  their  conversation  related  to  the 
present  situation.  It  was  perfectly  clear  they  regarded 
it  as  very  critical.  We  could  hear  heavy  cannonading  in 
the  distance  towards  Fredericksburg.  Several  times 
Hancock  broke  out  with  a  savage  oath  as  he  impatiently 
paced  up  and  down,  swinging  his  sword.  "  They  are 
knocking  Sedgwick  to  pieces.  Why  don't  we  go  for 
ward?"  or  a  similar  ejaculation,  and  then,  "General 
Couch,  why  do  you  not  assume  command  and  order  us 
forward?  It  is  your  duty."  (The  latter  was  next  in 
rank  to  Hooker.) 

To  which  General  Couch  replied,  "  I  cannot  assume 

229 


War  from  the  Inside 

command."  French  and  Howard  agreed  with  Hancock, 
but  Couch  remained  imperturbable,  saying,  "  When  I  am 
properly  informed  that  General  Hooker  is  disabled  and 
not  in  command,  I  shall  assume  the  duty  which  will  de 
volve  upon  me."  And  so  hour  after  hour  passed  of 
inactivity  at  this  most  critical  juncture.  They  said  it 
was  plain  Lee  was  making  simply  a  show  of  force  in  our 
front  whilst  he  had  detached  a  large  part  of  his  army  and 
was  driving  Sedgwick  before  him  down  at  Fredericks- 
burg.  Now,  why  this  period  of  inactivity  whilst  Sedg 
wick  was  being  punished?  Why  this  interregnum  in  the 
command?  When  Colonel  Albright  returned  from  his 
call  at  Hooker's  tent,  narrated  above,  he  freely  expressed 
his  opinion  that  Hooker's  condition  was  as  stated  above. 
His  views  were  then  generally  believed  by  those  about 
head-quarters,  and  this  was  understood  as  the  reason  why 
the  next  officer  in  rank  was  not  officially  notified  of  his 
chief's  disability  and  the  responsibility  of  the  command 
placed  upon  him.  Nothing  was  then  said  about  the  con 
cussion  of  a  shell.  It  is  profoundly  to  be  hoped  that 
Colonel  Albright's  impression  was  wrong,  and  that  the 
disability  was  produced,  as  alleged,  by  concussion  of  a 
shell.  If  so,  there  was  a  very  grave  dereliction  of  duty 
on  the  part  of  his  chief  of  staff  in  not  imparting  the  fact 
immediately  to  General  Couch,  the  officer  next  in  rank, 
and  devolving  the  command  upon  him. 

In  our  new  position  on  the  afternoon  of  Sunday,  the 
third  day's  battle,  we  were  subjected  to  a  continuous  fire 
of  skirmishers  and  sharpshooters,  without  the  ability  of 
replying.  We  laid  up  logs  for  a  barricade  and  protected 
ourselves  as  well  as  we  could.  Several  were  wounded 

230 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

during  the  afternoon,  among  them  Captain  Hall,  of  Com 
pany  I.  His  was  a  most  singular  wound.  We  were  all 
lying  prone  upon  the  ground,  when  suddenly  he  spoke 
rather  sharply  and  said  he  had  got  a  clip  on  his  knee. 
He  said  it  was  an  insignificant  flesh  wound,  but  his  leg 
was  benumbed.  He  tried  to  step  on  it,  but  could  not 
bear  his  weight  on  it,  and  very  soon  it  became  exceedingly 
painful,  and  his  ankle  swelled  to  double  its  natural  size. 
He  was  taken  back  to  one  of  the  hospitals,  where  it  was 
found  a  minie-ball  had  entered  his  leg  above  the  knee  and 
passed  down  between  the  bones  to  the  ankle,  where  it 
was  removed.  This  practically  ended  the  service  of  one 
of  the  youngest  of  our  captains,  a  brave  and  brilliant 
young  officer. 

Towards  night  a  cold,  drizzling  rain  set  in,  which 
chilled  us  to  our  bones.  We  could  not  have  any  fires,  not 
even  to  make  our  coffee,  for  fear  of  disclosing  our  posi 
tion  to  the  enemy.  For  four  days  now  we  had  been  con 
tinuously  under  the  terrible  nervous  strain  incident  to  a 
battle  and  practically  without  any  rest  or  sleep.  During 
this  time  we  had  no  cooked  food,  nothing  but  hardtack 
and  raw  pork  and  coffee  but  once.  This  condition  began 
to  tell  upon  us  all.  I  had  been  under  the  weather  when 
the  movement  began,  and  was  ordered  by  our  surgeon  to 
remain  behind,  but  I  said  no,  not  as  long  as  I  could  get 
around.  Now  I  found  my  strength  had  reached  its  limit, 
and  I  took  that  officer's  advice,  with  the  colonel's  orders, 
and  went  back  to  the  division  field  hospital  to  get  under 
cover  from  the  rain  and  get  a  night's  sleep  if  possible. 

I  found  a  half-dozen  hospital  tents  standing  together 
as  one  hospital,  and  all  full  to  overflowing  with  sick  and 

231 


War  from  the  Inside 

wounded  men.  Our  brigade  surgeon,  a  personal  friend, 
was  in  charge.  He  finally  found  a  place  for  me  just 
under  the  edge  of  one  of  the  tents,  where  I  could  keep 
part  of  the  rain  off.  He  brought  me  a  stiff  dose  of 
whiskey  and  quinine,  the  universal  war  remedy,  and  I 
drank  it  and  lay  down,  and  was  asleep  in  less  time  than  it 
takes  me  to  write  it. 

About  midnight  the  surgeon  came  and  aroused  me  with 
the  information  that  the  army  was  moving  back  across 
the  river,  and  that  all  in  the  hospital  who  could  march^ 
were  ordered  to  make  their  way  back  as  best  they  could ; 
that  of  the  others  the  ambulances  would  carry  all  they 
could  and  the  others  would  be  left.  This  was  astounding 
information.  My  first  impulse  was,  of  course,  to  return 
to  my  regiment,  but  the  doctor  negatived  that  emphati 
cally  by  saying,  "  You  are  under  my  orders  here,  and 
my  instructions  are  to  send  you  all  directly  back  to  the 
ford  and  across  the  river;  and  then  the  army  is  already 
on  the  march,  and  you  might  as  well  attempt  to  find  a 
needle  in  a  haystack  as  undertake  to  find  your  regiment 
in  these  woods  in  this  darkness."  If  his  first  reason  had 
not  been  sufficient,  the  latter  one  was  quite  convincing. 
I  realized  at  once  the  utter  madness  of  any  attempt  to 
reach  the  regiment,  at  the  same  time  that  in  this  night 
tramp  back  over  the  river,  some  eight  miles,  I  had  a  job 
that  would  tax  my  strength  to  the  utmost.  The  doctor 
had  found  one  of  the  men  of  our  regiment  who  was  sick, 
and  bidding  us  help  each  other  started  us  back  over  the 
old  plank-road. 

How  shall  I  describe  the  experiences  of  that  night's 
tramp?    The  night  was  intensely  dark  and  it  was  raining 

232 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

hard.  The  plank-road  was  such  only  in  name.  What 
few  remnants  remained  of  the  old  planks  were  rotten  and 
were  a  constant  menace  to  our  footing.  I  must  have 
had  more  than  a  dozen  falls  during  that  march  from 
those  broken  planks,  until  face,  arms,  and  legs  were  a 
mass  of  bruises.  We  were  told  to  push  forward  as  rap 
idly  as  we  could  to  keep  ahead  of  the  great  rabble  of  sick 
and  wounded  which  was  to  follow  immediately.  This 
we  tried  to  do,  though  the  road  was  now  crowded  with 
the  occupants  of  the  other  hospitals  already  on  their  way. 
These  men  were  all  either  sick  or  wounded,  and  were 
making  their  way  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  most  of 
them  in  silence,  but  there  was  an  occasional  one  whose 
tongue  gave  expression  to  every  possible  mishap  in  out 
bursts  of  the  most  shocking  profanity.  There  were 
enough  of  these  to  make  the  night  hideous. 

Our  road  was  a  track  just  wide  enough  to  admit  a 
single  wagon  through  the  densest  jungle  of  timber  and 
undergrowth  I  ever  saw.  I  cannot  imagine  the  famed 
jungles  of  Africa  more  dense  or  impenetrable,  and  it 
seemed  to  be  without  end  as  we  wearily  plodded  on  hour 
after  hour,  now  stepping  into  a  hole  and  sprawling  in 
the  mud,  again  stumbling  against  a  stolid  neighbor  and 
being  in  turn  jostled  by  him,  with  an  oath  for  being  in 
his  way.  Many  a  poor  fellow  fell,  too  exhausted  to  rise, 
and  we  were  too  nearly  dead  to  do  more  than  mechani 
cally  note  the  fact. 

Towards  morning  a  quartette  of  men  overtook  us 
carrying  a  man  on  their  shoulders.  As  they  drew  near  us 
one  of  the  forward  pair  stumbled  and  fell,  and  down 
came  the  body  into  the  mud  with  a  swash.  If  the  body 

233 


/TV 


War  from  the  Inside 

was  not  dead,  the  fall  killed  it,  for  it  neither  moved  nor 
uttered  a  sound.  With  a  fearful  objurgation  they  went 
on  and  left  it,  and  we  did  not  have  life  enough  left  in  us 
to  make  any  investigation.  It  was  like  the  case  of  a 
man  on  the  verge  of  drowning  seeing  others  perishing 
without  the  ability  to  help.  It  was  a  serious  question 
whether  we  could  pull  ourselves  through  or  should  be 
obliged  to  drop  in  our  tracks,  to  be  run  over  and  crushed 
or  trampled  to  death,  as  many  a  poor  fellow  was  that 
night.  We  had  not  an  ounce  of  strength,  nor  had  any  of 
the  hundreds  of  others  in  our  condition,  to  bestow  on 
those  who  could  not  longer  care  for  themselves.  Here  it 
was  every  man  for  himself.  This  night's  experience  was 
a  horrible  nightmare. 

It  was  long  after  daylight  when  we  crawled  out  of 
those  woods  and  reached  United  States  ford.  Here  a 
pontoon  bridge  had  been  thrown  over,  and  a  double  col 
umn  of  troops  and  a  battery  of  artillerv  were  crossing 
at  the  same  time.  We  pushed  ourselves  into  the  throng, 
as  to  which  there  was  no  semblance  of  order,  and  were 
soon  on  the  other  side.  On  the  top  of  the  bluff,  some 
one  hundred  feet  above  the  river,  on  our  side,  we  noticed 
a  hospital  tent,  and  we  thought  if  we  could  reach  that  we 
might  find  shelter  and  rest,  for  it  was  still  raining  and 
we  were  drenched  to  the  skin,  and  so  cold  that  our  faces 
were  blue  and  our  teeth  chattered.  A  last  effort  landed 
us  at  this  hospital.  Alas  for  our  hopes !  it  was  crowded 
like  sardines  in  a  box  with  others  who  in  like  condition 
had  reached  it  before  us.  I  stuck  my  head  in  the  tent. 
One  glance  was  enough.  The  surgeon  in  charge,  in  an 
swer  to  our  mute  appeal,  said,  "  God  help  you,  boys ;  I 

234 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

cannot.  But  here  is  a  bottle  of  whiskey,  take  a  good 
drink;  it  will  do  you  good."  We  took  a  corking  dose, 
nearly  half  the  bottle,  and  lay  down,  spoon  fashion,  my 
comrade  and  I,  by  the  side  of  that  tent  in  the  rain  and 
slept  for  about  an  hour,  until  the  stimulus  of  the  liquor 
passed  off  and  the  cold  began  again  to  assert  itself,  when 
we  had  to  start  on  again.  I  have  never  had  any  use  for 
liquors  in  my  life,  and  the  use  of  them  in  any  form  as  a 
beverage  I  consider  as  nothing  else  than  harmful  in  the 
highest  degree,  yet  I  have  always  felt  that  this  big  dose 
of  whiskey  saved  my  life.  Could  we  have  had  a  good 
cup  of  hot  coffee  at  that  time  it  would  possibly  have  been 
better,  but  we  might  as  well  have  looked  for  lodgings  in 
the  Waldorf-Astoria  as  for  coffee  at  that  time  and  place. 
Imagine  my  feelings  during  all  this  night  as  I  reflected 
that  I  had  a  good  horse,  overcoat,  and  gum  blanket  some 
where, — yes,  somewhere,  back,  or  wherever  my  regiment 
might  be, — and  here  I  was  soaking  wet,  chilled  to  the 
bones  and  almost  dead  from  tramping. 

We  got  word  at  the  Ford  that  the  troops  were  to  go 
back  to  their  old  camps,  and  there  was  nothing  for  us  to 
do  but  to  make  our  way  back  there  as  best  we  might. 
Soon  after  we  started  Colonel  (afterwards  Judge  Dana, 
of  Wilkes-Barre)  Dana's  regiment  passed.  The  colonel 
hailed  me  and  kindly  inquired  why  I  happened  to  be  there 
by  myself  on  foot,  said  I  looked  most  wretched,  and  in 
sisted  on  my  taking  another  bracer  from  a  little  emergency 
stock  he  had  preserved.  I  had  been  but  a  few  months 
out  of  his  law  office,  from  which  I  had  been  admitted  to 
the  bar.  His  kindly  attentions  under  these  limited  cir 
cumstances  were  very  cheering  and  helpful.  We  were 

235 


War  from  the  Inside 

all  day  covering  the  eight  or  more  miles  back  to  camp. 
But  early  in  the  day  the  rain  ceased,  the  sun  came  out, 
we  got  warmed  up  marching,  and  after  some  hours  our 
clothes  became  sufficiently  dry  to  be  more  comfortable, 
so  that  when  we  reached  camp  in  the  evening  our  condi 
tion  was  much  improved.  This  was  due  in  part  probably 
as  much  to  the  relief  from  the  awful  nervous  strain  of  the 
battle  and  the  conditions  through  which  we  had  passed 
in  that  wilderness  as  to  rest  and  the  changed  weather. 
When  we  reached  this  side  of  the  river  that  nervous  strain 
ceased.  We  were  sure  that  fighting  was  over,  at  least  for 
the  present.  We  found  the  regiment  had  been  in  camp 
some  hours  ahead  of  us.  Our  corps  was  probably  on  the 
march  when  we  left  the  hospital,  and  had  preceded  us  all 
the  way  back.  I  found  my  horse  had  brought  back  one 
of  our  wounded  men,  and  this  was  some  compensation 
for  my  own  loss. 

We  had  been  gone  on  this  campaign  from  the  2Qth  of 
April  until  the  5th  of  May,  and  such  a  week !  How  much 
that  was  horrible  had  been  crowded  into  it.  For  variety 
of  experiences  of  the  many  dreadful  sides  of  war,  that 
week  far  exceeded  any  other  like  period  of  our  service. 
The  fighting  was  boy's  play  compared  with  either  Antie- 
tam  or  Fredericksburg,  yet  for  ninety-six  hours  contin 
uously  we  were  under  the  terrible  nervous  strain  of  battle. 
Our  losses  in  this  action  were  comparatively  light,  2  men 
killed,  2  officers  wounded  (one  of  whom  died  a  few  days 
later),  and  39  men  wounded,  and  one  man  missing;  total 
loss,  44,  or  about  fifteen  per  cent,  of  the  number  we  took 
into  action.  This  missing  man  I  met  at  the  recent  reunion 
of  our  regiment.  He  was  picked  up  from  our  skirmish 

236 


The  Battle  of  Chancellorsville 

line  by  that  flanking  party  of  rebels  on  the  third  day's 
fight  described  in  my  last.  The  circumstance  will  show 
how  close  the  rebels  were  upon  us  before  we  discovered 
them.  Our  skirmishers  could  not  have  been  more  than 
a  dozen  yards  in  advance  of  our  main  line,  yet  the  thicket 
was  so  dense  that  the  enemy  was  on  him  before  he  fairly 
realized  it.  He  said  he  was  placed  with  a  lot  of  other 
prisoners  and  marched  to  the  rear  some  distance,  under 
guard,  when  a  fine-looking  Confederate  officer  rode  up 
to  them.  He  was  told  it  was  General  Lee.  He  said  he 
wore  long,  bushy  whiskers  and  addressed  them  with  a 
cheery, — 

"  Good-morning,  boys.  What  did  you  come  down 
here  for  ?  a  picnic  ?  You  didn't  think  you  could  whip  us 
men  of  the  South,  did  you  ?" 

One  of  the  prisoners  spoke  up  in  reply, — 

"  Yes,  d — n  you,  we  did,  and  we  will.  You  haven't 
won  this  fight  yet,  and  Joe  Hooker  will  lick  h — 1  out  of 
you  and  recapture  us  before  you  get  us  out  of  these 
woods." 

The  general  laughed  good-naturedly  at  the  banter  his 
questions  had  elicited,  and  solemnly  assured  them  that 
there  were  not  men  enough  in  the  whole  North  to  take 
Richmond.  Our  man  was  probably  misinformed  as  to 
who  their  interlocutor  was.  General  Lee  did  not  wear 
long,  bushy  whiskers,  and  was  at  that  time  probably  down 
directing  operations  against  Fredericksburg.  This  was 
probably  Jeb  Stuart,  who  had  succeeded  Jackson  in  com 
mand  of  that  wing  of  the  rebel  army. 

Our  prisoner  fared  much  better  than  most  prisoners, 
for  it  was  his  good  fortune  to  be  exchanged  after  twenty- 

237 


War  from  the  Inside 

three  days'  durance,  probably  owing  to  the  expiration  of 
his  term  of  service.  Although  the  actual  dates  of  enlist 
ment  of  our  men  were  all  in  July  and  their  terms  there 
fore  expired,  the  government  insisted  upon  holding  us  for 
the  full  period  of  nine  months  from  the  date  of  actual 
muster  into  the  United  States  service,  which  would  not 
be  completed  until  the  I4th  of  May.  We  had,  therefore, 
eight  days'  service  remaining  after  our  return  from  the 
battle  of  Chancellorsville,  and  we  were  continued  in  all 
duties  just  as  though  we  had  months  yet  to  serve.  Our 
principal  work  was  the  old  routine  of  picket  duty  again. 
Our  friends,  the  enemy,  were  now  quick  to  tantalize  our 
pickets  with  the  defeat  at  Chancellorsville.  Such  remarks 
as  these  were  volleyed  at  us : 

"  We  'uns  give  you  'uns  a  right  smart  lickin'  up  in 
them  woods." 

"  How  d'ye  like  Virginny  woods,  Yank?" 

And  then  they  sang  to  us : 

"Ain't  ye  mighty  glad  to  get  out  the  wilderness?" 

A  song  just  then  much  in  vogue.  Another  volunteered 
the  remark,  as  if  to  equalize  the  honors  in  some  measure, 
"  If  we  did  wallop  you  'uns,  you  'uns  killed  our  best 
general."  "  We  feel  mighty  bad  about  Stonewall's 
death,"  and  so  their  tongues  would  run  on,  whether  our 
men  replied  or  not. 


238 


CHAPTER   XVII 


THE    MUSTER    OUT    AND    HOME    AGAIN 

ON  the  1 4th  of  May  we  received  orders  to  proceed  to 
Harrisburg  for  muster  out.  There  was,  of  course,  great 
rejoicing  at  the  early  prospect  of  home  scenes  once  more. 
We  walked  on  air,  and  lived  for  the  next  few  days  in 
fond  anticipation.  We  were  the  recipients  of  any  amount 
of  attention  from  our  multitude  of  friends  in  the  division. 
Many  were  the  forms  of  leave-taking  that  took  place.  It 
was  a  great  satisfaction  to  realize  that  in  our  compara 
tively  brief  period  of  service  we  had  succeeded  in  winning 
our  way  so  thoroughly  into  the  big  hearts  of  those  vet 
erans.  The  night  before  our  departure  was  one  of  the 
gladdest  and  saddest  of  all  our  experience.  The  Four 
teenth  Connecticut  band,  that  same  band  which  had  so 
heroically  played  out  between  the  lines  when  the  Eleventh 
Corps  broke  on  that  fateful  Saturday  night  at  Chan- 
cellorsville,  came  over  and  gave  us  a  farewell  serenade. 
They  played  most  of  the  patriotic  airs,  with  "  Home, 
Sweet  Home,"  which  I  think  never  sounded  quite  so 
sadly  sweet,  and  suggestively  wound  up  with  "  When 
Johnny  Comes  Marching  Home."  Most  of  the  officers 
and  men  of  the  brigade  were  there  to  give  us  a  soldier's 
good-by,  and  Major-General  Couch,  commanding  our 
corps  (the  Second),  also  paid  us  the  compliment  of  a 
visit  and  made  a  pleasant  little  speech  to  the  men  who 

239 


War  from  the  Inside 

were  informally  grouped  around  head-quarters,  com 
mending  our  behavior  in  three  of  the  greatest  battles  of 
the  war. 

It  had  been  our  high  honor,  he  said,  to  have  had  a  part 
in  those  great  battles,  and  though  new  and  untried  we 
had  acquitted  ourselves  with  great  credit  and  had  held 
our  ground  like  veterans.  He  expressed  the  fervent  hope 
that  our  patriotism  would  still  further  respond  to  the 
country's  needs,  and  that  we  would  all  soon  again  be  in 
the  field.  Our  honors  were  not  yet  complete.  General 
French,  commanding  our  division,  issued  a  farewell  order, 
a  copy  of  which  I  would  have  been  glad  to  publish,  but 
I  have  not  been  able  to  get  it.  It  was,  however,  gratify 
ing  in  the  extreme.  He  recounted  our  bravery  under  his 
eye  in  those  battles  and  our  efficient  service  on  all  duty, 
and  wound  up  by  saying  he  felt  sure  that  men  with  such 
a  record  could  not  long  remain  at  home,  but  would  soon 
again  rally  around  their  country's  flag.  Of  General 
Couch,  our  corps  commander,  we  had  seen  but  little,  and 
were  therefore  very  pleasantly  surprised  at  his  visit.  Of 
General  French,  bronzed  and  grizzly  bearded,  we  had 
seen  much;  all  our  work  had  been  under  his  immediate 
supervision.  He  was  a  typical  old  regular,  and  many 
were  the  cuffs  and  knocks  we  received  for  our  inexpe 
rience  and  shortcomings,  all,  however,  along  the  lines  of 
discipline  and  for  our  good,  and  which  had  really  helped 
to  make  soldiers  of  us.  These  incidents  showed  that 
each  commanding  general  keeps  a  keen  eye  on  all  his 
regiments,  and  no  one  is  quicker  to  detect  and  appreciate 
good  behavior  than  they.  We  felt  especially  pleased  with 
the  praises  of  General  French,  because  it  revealed  the 

240 


The  Muster  Out  and  Home  Again 

other  side  of  this  old  hero's  character.  Rough  in  exterior 
and  manner  of  speech,  he  was  a  strong  character  and  a 
true  hero. 

His  position  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  will  illus 
trate  this.  He  was  a  Southerner  of  the  type  of  Anderson 
and  Farragut.  When  so  many  of  his  fellows  of  the 
regular  army,  under  pretext  of  following  their  States, 
went  over  into  rebellion  and  treason,  he  stood  firm  and 
under  circumstances  which  reflect  great  credit  upon  him. 
He  had  been  in  Mexico  and  had  spent  a  life  on  the 
frontier,  and  had  grown  old  and  gray  in  the  service,  reach 
ing  only  the  rank  of  captain.  When  the  war  finally  came 
he  was  in  command  of  a  battery  of  artillery  stationed 
some  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  up  the  Rio  Grande, 
on  the  border  of  Mexico.  He  was  cut  off  from  all  com 
munication  with  Washington,  and  the  commander  of  his 
department,  the  notorious  General  David  E.  Twiggs,  had 
gone  over  to  the  Confederacy.  He  was,  therefore,  thor 
oughly  isolated.  Twiggs  sent  him  a  written  order  to 
surrender  his  battery  to  the  rebel  commander  of  that 
district.  His  characteristic  reply  was,  that  he  would  "  see 
him  and  the  Confederacy  in  hell  first ;"  that  he  was  going 
to  march  his  battery  into  God's  country,  and  if  anybody 
interfered  with  his  progress  they  might  expect  a  dose  of 
shot  and  shell  they  would  long  remember.  None  of  them 
felt  disposed  to  test  his  threat,  and  so  he  marched  his 
battery  alone  down  through  that  rebel  country  those  three 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  and  more  into  our  lines  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Rio  Grande,  bringing  off  every  gun  and 
every  dollar's  worth  of  government  property  that  he  could 
carry,  and  what  he  could  not  carry  he  destroyed.  He  was 
16  241 


War  from  the  Inside 

immediately  ordered  north  with  his  battery  and  justly 
rewarded  with  a  brigadier-general's  commission. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  I5th  we  broke  camp  and 
bade  farewell  to  that  first  of  the  world's  great  armies,  the 
grand  old  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Need  I  say  that,  joyous 
as  was  our  home-going,  there  was  more  than  a  pang  at 
the  bottom  of  our  hearts  as  we  severed  those  heroic  asso 
ciations  ?  A  last  look  at  the  old  familiar  camp,  a  wave  of 
the  hand  to  the  friendly  adieus  of  our  comrades,  whose 
good-by  glances  indicated  that  they  would  gladly  have 
exchanged  places  with  us ;  that  if  our  hearts  were  wrung 
at  going,  theirs  were,  too,  at  remaining;  a  last  march 
down  those  Falmouth  hills,  another  and  last  glance  at 
those  terrible  works  behind  Fredericksburg,  and  we 
passed  out  of  the  army  and  out  of  the  soldier  into  the 
citizen,  for  our  work  was  now  done  and  we  were  soldiers 
only  in  name. 

As  our  train  reached  Belle-plain,  where  we  were  to 
take  boat  for  Washington,  we  noticed  a  long  train  of 
ambulances  moving  down  towards  the  landing,  and  were 
told  they  were  filled  with  wounded  men,  just  now  brought 
off  the  field  at  Chancellorsville.  There  were  upward  of 
a  thousand  of  them.  It  seems  incredible  that  the  wounded 
should  have  been  left  in  those  woods  during  these  ten  to 
twelve  days  since  the  battle.  How  many  hundreds  per 
ished  during  that  time  for  want  of  care  nobody  knows, 
and,  more  horrible  still,  nobody  knows  how  many  poor 
fellows  were  burned  up  in  the  portions  of  those  woods 
that  caught  fire  from  the  artillery.  But  such  is  war. 
Dare  any  one  doubt  the  correctness  of  Uncle  Billy  Sher 
man's  statement  that  "  War  is  hell !" 

242 


The  Muster  Out  and  Home  Again 

Reaching  Washington,  the  regiment  bivouacked  a  sin 
gle  night,  awaiting  transportation  to  Harrisburg.  During 
this  time  discipline  was  relaxed  and  the  men  were  per 
mitted  to  see  the  capital  city.  The  lieutenant-colonel  and 
I  enjoyed  the  extraordinary  luxury  of  a  good  bath,  a 
square  meal,  and  a  civilized  bed  at  the  Metropolitan 
Hotel,  the  first  in  five  long  months.  Singular  as  it  may 
seem,  I  caught  a  terrific  cold  as  the  price  I  paid  for  it. 
The  next  day  we  were  again  back  in  Camp  Curtin,  at 
Harrisburg,  with  nothing  to  do  but  to  make  out  the  neces 
sary  muster  rolls,  turn  in  our  government  property, — 
guns,  accoutrements,  blankets,  etc.,  and  receive  our  dis 
charges.  This  took  over  a  week,  so  that  it  was  the  24th 
of  May  before  we  were  finally  discharged  and  paid  off. 
Then  the  several  companies  finally  separated. 

If  it  had  been  hard  to  leave  our  comrades  of  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac,  it  was  harder  to  sever  the  close  comrade 
ship  of  our  own  regiment,  a  relationship  formed  and 
cemented  amidst  the  scenes  that  try  men's  souls,  a  com 
radeship  born  of  fellowship  in  privation,  danger,  and 
suffering.  I  could  hardly  restrain  my  tears  as  we  finally 
parted  with  our  torn  and  tattered  colors,  the  staff  of  one 
of  which  had  been  shot  away  in  my  hands.  We  had 
fought  under  their  silken  folds  on  three  battle-fields,  upon 
which  we  had  left  one-third  of  our  number  killed  and 
wounded,  including  a  colonel  and  three  line  officers  and 
upward  of  seventy-five  men  killed  and  two  hundred  and 
fifteen  wounded.  Out  of  our  regiment  of  one  thousand 
and  twenty-four  men  mustered  into  the  service  August 
14,  1862,  we  had  present  at  our  muster  out  six  hundred 
and  eighteen.  We  had  lost  in  battle  two  hundred  and 

243 


War  from  the  Inside 

ninety-five  in  killed  and  wounded  and  one  hundred  and 
eleven  from  physical  disability,  sickness,  etc.,  and  all  in 
the  short  space  of  nine  months.  Of  the  sixteen  nine- 
months  regiments  formed  in  August,  1862,  the  One  Hun 
dred  and  Thirtieth  and  ours  were  the  only  regiments  to 
actively  participate  in  the  three  great  battles  of  Antietam, 
Fredericksburg,  and  Chancellorsville,  and  we  lost  more 
men  than  either  of  the  others. 

I  should  mention  a  minor  incident  that  occurred  during 
our  stay  in  Harrisburg  preparing  for  muster  out.  A 
large  number  of  our  men  had  asked  me  to  see  if  I  could 
not  get  authority  to  re-enlist  a  battalion  from  the  regi 
ment.  I  was  assured  that  three-fourths  of  the  men  would 
go  back  with  me,  provided  they  could  have  a  two  weeks' 
furlough.  I  laid  the  matter  before  Governor  Curtin.  He 
said  the  government  should  take  them  by  all  means ;  that 
here  was  a  splendid  body  of  seasoned  men  that  would  be 
worth  more  than  double  their  number  of  new  recruits; 
but  he  was  without  authority  to  take  them,  and  suggested 
that  I  go  over  to  Washington  and  lay  the  matter  before 
the  Secretary  of  War.  He  gave  me  a  letter  to  the  latter 
and  I  hurried  off.  I  had  no  doubt  of  my  ability  to  raise 
an  entire  regiment  from  the  great  number  of  nine-months 
men  now  being  discharged.  I  repaired  to  the  War  De 
partment,  and  here  my  troubles  began.  Had  the  lines  of 
sentries  that  guarded  the  approach  to  the  armies  in  the 
field  been  half  as  efficient  as  the  cordon  of  flunkies  that 
.barred  the  way  to  the  War  Office,  the  former  would  have 
been  beyond  the  reach  of  any  enemy.  At  the  entrance 
my  pedigree  was  taken,  with  my  credentials  and  a  state 
ment  of  my  business.  I  was  finally  permitted  to  sit  down 

244 


The  Muster  Out  and  Home  Again 

in  a  waiting-room  with  a  waiting  crowd.  Occasionally 
a  senator  or  a  congressman  would  break  the  monotony 
by  pushing  himself  in  whilst  we  cultivated  our  patience 
by  waiting.  Lunch  time  came  and  went.  I  waited.  Sev 
eral  times  I  ventured  some  remarks  to  the  attendant  as 
to  when  I  might  expect  my  turn  to  come,  but  he  looked 
at  me  with  a  sort  of  far-off  look,  as  though  I  could  not 
have  realized  to  whom  I  was  speaking.  Finally,  driven 
to  desperation,  after  waiting  more  than  four  hours,  I 
tried  a  little  bluster  and  insisted  that  I  would  go  in  and 
see  somebody.  Then  I  was  assured  that  the  only  official 

about  the  office  was  a  Colonel  ,  acting  assistant 

adjutant-general.     I  might  see  him. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "let  me  see  him,  anybody!" 

I  was  ushered  into  the  great  official's  presence.  He 
was  a  lieutenant-colonel,  just  one  step  above  my  own 
rank.  He  was  dressed  in  a  faultless  new  uniform.  His 
hair  was  almost  as  red  as  a  fresh  red  rose  and  parted  in 
the  middle,  and  his  pose  and  dignity  were  quite  worthy 
of  the  national  snob  hatchery  at  West  Point,  of  which  he 
was  a  recent  product. 

'  Young  man,"  said  he,  with  a  supercilious  air,  "  what 
might  your  business  be?" 

I  stated  that  I  had  brought  a  letter  from  His  Excel 
lency,  Governor  Curtin,  of  Pennsylvania,  to  the  Secretary 
of  War,  whom  I  desired  to  see  on  important  business. 

"  Where  is  your  letter,  sir?" 

"  I  gave  it  up  to  the  attendant  four  hours  ago,  who,  I 
supposed,  took  it  to  the  Secretary." 

;'  There  is  no  letter  here,  sir!  What  is  your  business? 
You  cannot  see  the  Secretary  of  War." 

245 


War  from  the  Inside 

I  then  briefly  stated  my  errand.    His  reply  was, — 

'  Young  man,  if  you  really  desire  to  serve  your  coun 
try,  go  home  and  enlist." 

Thoroughly  disgusted,  I  retired,  and  so  ended  what 
might  have  saved  to  the  service  one  of  the  best  bodies  of 
men  that  ever  wore  a  government  uniform,  and  at  a  time 
when  the  country  was  sorely  in  need  of  them. 

A  word  now  of  the  personnel  of  the  One  Hundred  and 
Thirty-second  Regiment  and  I  am  done.  Dr.  Bates,  in 
his  history  of  the  Pennsylvania  troops,  remarks  that  this 
regiment  was  composed  of  a  remarkable  body  of  men. 
This  judgment  must  have  been  based  upon  his  knowledge 
of  their  work.  Every  known  trade  was  represented  in 
its  ranks.  Danville  gave  us  a  company  of  iron  workers 
and  merchants,  Catawissa  and  Bloomsburg,  mechanics, 
tradesmen,  and  farmers.  From  Mauch  Chunk  we  had 
two  companies,  which  included  many  miners.  From 
Wyoming  and  Bradford  we  had  three  companies  of 
sturdy,  intelligent  young  farmers  intermingled  with  some 
mechanics  and  tradesmen.  Scranton,  small  as  she  was 
then,  gave  us  two  companies,  which  was  scarcely  a  moiety 
of  the  number  she  sent  into  the  service.  I  well  remember 
how  our  flourishing  Young  Men's  Christian  Association 
was  practically  suspended  because  its  members  had  gone 
to  the  war,  and  old  Nay  Aug  Hose  Company,  the  pride 
of  the  town,  in  which  many  of  us  had  learned  the  little 
we  knew  of  drill,  was  practically  defunct  for  want  of  a 
membership  which  had  "  gone  to  the  war."  Of  these  two 
Scranton  companies,  Company  K  had  as  its  basis  the  old 
Scranton  City  Guard,  a  militia  organization  which,  if  not 
large,  was  thoroughly  well  drilled  and  made  up  of  most 

246 


The  Muster  Out  and  Home  Again 

excellent  material.  Captain  Richard  Stillwell,  who  com 
manded  this  company,  had  organized  the  City  Guard  and 
been  its  captain  from  the  beginning.  The  other  Scranton 
company  was  perhaps  more  distinctively  peculiar  in  its 
personnel  than  either  of  the  other  companies.  It  was 
composed  almost  exclusively  of  Delaware,  Lackawanna 
&  Western  Railroad  shop  and  coal  men,  and  was  known 
as  the  Railroad  Guards.  In  its  ranks  were  locomotive 
engineers,  firemen,  brakemen,  trainmen,  machinists,  tele 
graph  operators,  despatchers,  railroad-shop  men,  a  few 
miners,  foremen,  coal-breaker  men,  etc.  Their  captain, 
James  Archbald,  Jr.,  was  assistant  to  his  father  as  chief 
engineer  of  the  road,  and  he  used  to  say  that  with  his 
company  he  could  survey,  lay  out,  build  and  operate  a 
railroad.  The  first  sergeant  of  that  company,  George 
Conklin,  brother  of  D.  H.  Conklin,  chief  despatcher  of 
the  Delaware,  Lackawanna  &  Western,  and  his  assistant, 
had  been  one  of  the  first  to  learn  the  art  of  reading  tele 
graph  messages  by  ear,  an  accomplishment  then  quite 
uncommon.  His  memory  had  therefore  been  so  devel 
oped  that  after  a  few  times  calling  his  company  roll  he 
dispensed  with  the  book  and  called  it  alphabetically  from 
memory.  Keeping  a  hundred  names  in  his  mind  in  proper 
order  we  thought  quite  a  feat.  Forty  years  later,  at  one 
of  our  reunions,  Mr.  Conklin,  now  superintendent  of  a 
railroad,  was  present.  I  asked  him  if  he  remembered 
calling  his  company  roll  from  memory. 

'  Yes,"  said  he,  "  and  I  can  do  it  now,  and  recall  every 
face  and  voice,"  and  he  began  and  rattled  off  the  names 
of  his  roll.  He  said  sometimes  in  the  old  days  the  boys 
would  try  to  fool  him  by  getting  a  comrade  to  answer 

247 


War  from  the  Inside 

for  them,  but  they  could  never  do  it,  he  would  detect  the 
different  voice  instantly. 

Now,  as  I  close  this  narrative,  shall  I  speak  of  the  gala 
day  of  our  home-coming?  I  can,  of  course,  only  speak 
of  the  one  I  participated  in,  the  coming  home  to  Scranton 
of  Companies  I  and  K  and  the  members  of  the  field  and 
staff  who  lived  here.  This,  however,  will  be  a  fair  de 
scription  of  the  reception  each  of  the  other  companies 
received  at  their  respective  homes.  Home-coming  from 
the  war !  Can  we  who  know  of  it  only  as  we  read  appre 
ciate  such  a  home-coming?  That  was  forty-one  year's 
ago  the  25th  of  last  May.  Union  Hall,  on  Lackawanna 
Avenue,  midway  between  Wyoming  and  Penn,  had  been 
festooned  with  flags,  and  in  it  a  sumptuous  dinner  awaited 
us.  A  committee  of  prominent  citizens,  our  old  friends, 
not  one  of  whom  is  now  living,  met  us  some  distance 
down  the  road.  A  large  delegation  of  Scranton' s  ladies 
were  at  the  hall  to  welcome  and  serve  us,  and  of  these, 
the  last  one,  one  of  the  mothers  and  matrons,  has  just 
passed  into  the  great  beyond.  Many  of  those  of  our  own 
age,  the  special  attraction  of  the  returning  "  boys,"  have 
also  gone,  but  a  goodly  number  still  remain.  They  will 
recall  this  picture  with  not  a  little  interest,  I  am  sure. 
If  perchance  cheeks  should  be  wet  and  spectacles  moist 
ened  as  they  read,  it  will  be  but  a  reproduction  of  the 
emotions  of  that  beautiful  day  more  than  forty  years  ago. 
No  soldier  boys  ever  received  a  more  joyous  or  hearty 
welcome.  The  bountiful  repast  was  hurriedly  eaten,  for 
anxious  mothers,  wives,  sisters,  and  sweethearts  were 
there,  whose  claim  upon  their  returning  "  boy  in  blue"  for 
holier  and  tenderer  relationship  was  paramount. 

248 


The  Muster  Out  and  Home  Again 

Amidst  all  these  joyous  reunions,  were  there  no 
shadows?  Ah,  yes.  In  the  brief  period  of  nine  months 
our  regiment  had  lost  forty  per  cent,  of  its  membership. 
Company  I  had  gone  to  the  front  with  one  hundred  and 
one  stalwart  officers  and  men,  and  but  sixty-eight  came 
back  with  the  company.  Of  the  missing  names,  Daniel 
S.  Gardner,  Moses  H.  Ames,  George  H.  Cator,  Daniel 
Reed,  Richard  A.  Smith,  and  John  B.  West  were  killed 
in  battle  or  died  of  wounds  soon  after ;  Orville  Sharp  had 
died  in  the  service.  The  others  had  succumbed  to  the 
hardships  of  the  service  and  been  discharged.  Of  the 
same  number  Company  K  took  into  the  service,  sixty-six 
came  home  with  the  company.  Sergeant  Martin  L. 
Hower,  Richard  Davis,  Jacob  Eschenbach,  Jephtha  Milli- 
gan,  Allen  Sparks,  Obadiah  Sherwood,  and  David  C. 
Young  had  been  killed  in  battle  or  died  of  wounds; 
Thomas  D.  Davis,  Jesse  P.  Kortz,  Samuel  Snyder,  James 
Scull,  Solon  Searles,  and  John  W.  Wright  had  died  in 
the  service.  The  most  conspicuous  figure  in  the  regiment, 
our  colonel,  Richard  A.  Oakford,  had  been  the  first  to 
fall.  So  that  amidst  our  rejoicings  there  were  a  multi 
tude  of  hearts  unutterably  sad.  Will  the  time  ever  come 
when  "  the  bitter  shall  not  be  mingled  with  the  sweet" 
and  tears  of  sorrow  shall  not  drown  the  cup  of  gladness  ? 
Let  us  hope  and  pray  that  it  may;  and  now,  as  Father 
Time  tenderly  turns  down  the  heroic  leaf  of  the  One 
Hundred  and  Thirty-second  Pennsylvania  Volunteers,  let 
us  find  comfort  in  the  truth, 

''Duke  ct  decorum  est,  pro  p atria  mori." 


249 


APPENDIX 


THE  following  are  copies  of  the  muster-out  rolls  of  the  Field  and 
Staff  and  the  several  companies  of  the  One  Hundred  and  Thirty- 
second  Regiment,  Pennsylvania  Volunteers,  taken  originally  from 
Bates's  History,  and  compared  and  corrected  from  the  original  rolls 
in  the  Adjutant-General's  office,  at  Harrisburg,  Pa.  Several  correc 
tions  have  been  made  from  the  personal  recollections  of  officers  and 
men  whom  I  have  been  able  to  consult.  There  are  doubtless  errors  in 
the  original  rolls,  owing  to  the  paucity  of  records  in  the  hands  of 
those  whose  duty  it  was  to  make  them  at  the  time  of  muster-out, 
owing  to  resignations  and  other  casualties.  Some  of  these  officers 
were  new  in  the  command,  and  complete  records  were  not  in  their 
hands.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the  whole  period  of  service  of 
the  One  Hundred  and  Thirty-second  was  occupied  in  the  three 
strenuous  campaigns  of  Antietam,  Fredericksburg,  and  Chancellors- 
ville,  during  which  regimental  and  company  baggage,  which  in 
cluded  official  records,  were  seldom  seen,  and  in  many  cases  were 
entirely  lost.  For  example,  at  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville  on  the 
fateful  3d  of  May,  we  had  lain  in  line  of  battle  behind  our  knapsacks 
piled  up  in  twos,  as  a  little  protection  from  bullets.  When  we  were 
ordered  forward,  so  quick  was  the  movement,  that  these  knapsacks, 
and  officers'  luggage  as  well,  were  ordered  to  be  left.  When,  two 
hours  later,  on  our  return  we  reached  this  ground,  we  found  our 
knapsacks  were  at  the  bottom  of  an  earth-work  which  had  been 
hurriedly  thrown  up  during  our  absence,  over  which  a  line  of 
batteries  thrust  the  frowning  muzzles  of  their  guns.  With  one  or 
two  exceptions  (where  the  officer  commanding  the  company  hap 
pened  to  have  it  in  his  pocket),  the  company  rolls  were  lost  in 
the  knapsacks  of  the  first  sergeant,  whose  duty  it  was  to  carry  it. 
Thereupon  new  rolls  had  to  be  made  up,  and  of  course  mostly  from 
memory.  Under  all  these  circumstances,  the  wonder  is  that  there 
are  not  more  errors  in  them.  Almost  at  the  last  moment  did  I 
learn  that  I  could  include  these  rolls  in  my  book,  without  exceeding 
its  limits  under  the  contract  price.  During  this  time  I  have  en- 

251 


Appendix 

deavored  at  considerable  expense  and  labor  to  get  them  correct, 
but  even  so,  I  cannot  hope  that  they  are  more  than  approximately 
complete.  Nothing  can  be  more  sacred  or  valuable  to  the  veteran 
and  his  descendants  than  his  war  record.  The  difficulty  with  these 
rolls  will  be  found  I  fear  not  so  much  in  what  is  so  briefly  stated, 
but  in  what  has  been  inadvertently  omitted,  and  which  was  neces 
sary  to  a  complete  record.  There  are  a  number  of  desertions.  I 
have  given  them  as  they  are  on  the  rolls.  It  is  possible  that  some 
of  these  men  may  have  dropped  out  of  the  column  from  exhaust 
ion  on  the  march,  fallen  sick  and  had  been  taken  to  some  hospital 
and  died  without  identification.  Failing  to  report  at  roll-call  and 
being  unaccounted  for,  they  would  be  carried  on  the  company  rolls 
as  "  absent  without  leave,"  until  prolonged  absence  without  informa 
tion  would  compel  the  adding  of  the  fearful  word  "  deserted." 
There  were  instances  where  men  taken  sick  made  their  way  home 
without  leave  and  were  marked  deserters.  After  recovering  from 
a  severe  case  of  "  army  fever"  they  returned  again  to  duty.  This 
was  in  violation  of  discipline,  and  under  the  strict  letter  of  the 
law  they  were  deserters,  but  they  saved  the  government  the  cost 
of  their  nursing,  and,  what  is  more,  probably  saved  their  lives  and 
subsequent  service  by  their  going.  I  mention  these  things  so  that 
where  the  record  appears  harsh,  the  reader  may  know  that  possibly, 
if  all  the  facts  had  been  known,  it  might  have  been  far  different. 

FIELD   AND    STAFF. 

RICHARD  A.  OAKFORD,  colonel,  mustered  in  Aug.  22,  1862;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

VINCENT  M.  WILCOX,  colonel,  mustered  in  Aug.  26,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  lieutenant-colonel  September,  1862 ;  discharged  on 
surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  ALBRIGHT,  colonel,  mustered  in  Aug.  22,  1862 ;  pro 
moted  from  major  to  lieutenant-colonel  September,  1862,  to  colonel 
Jan.  24,  1863;  mustered  out  with  regiment  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  E.  SHREVE,  lieutenant-colonel,  promoted  from  captain 
Co.  A  to  major  September,  1862,  to  lieutenant-colonel  Jan.  24,  1^63; 
mustered  out  with  regiment  May  24,  1863. 

FREDERICK  L.  HITCHCOCK,  major,  mustered  in  Aug.  22,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  adjutant  Jan.  24,  1863 ;  twice  wounded  at  Fredericks- 
burg  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  regiment  May  24,  1863. 

AUSTIN  F.  CLAPP,  adjutant,  promoted  from  corporal  Co.  K  to 

252 


Appendix 

sergeant-major  Nov.  i,  1862;    to  adjutant  Jan.  24,  1863;    mustered 
out  with  regiment  May  24,  1863. 

CLINTON  W.  NEAL,  quartermaster,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
promoted  from  Co.  E  Aug.  22,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  regiment 
May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  W.  ANAWALT,  surgeon  (major),  mustered  in  Sept.  22, 
1862;  mustered  out  with  regiment  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  K.  THOMPSON,  assistant  surgeon  (first  lieutenant),  mus 
tered  in  Aug.  19,  1862;  mustered  out  with  regiment  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  W.  HOOVER,  assistant  surgeon  (first  lieutenant),  mustered 
in  Sept.  3,  1862;  mustered  out  with  regiment  May  24,  1863. 

A.  H.  SCHOONMAKER,  chaplain  (first  lieutenant),  mustered  in  Sept. 
20,  1862;  mustered  out  with  regiment  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  MAXWELL,  sergeant-major,  promoted  to  sergeant-major 
from  Co.  A  Aug.  22,  1862;  promoted  to  first  lieutenant  Co.  A  Nov. 
i,  1862.  (See  Co.  A.) 

FRANK  J.  DEEMER,  sergeant-major,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 
promoted  from  Co.  K  Jan.  24,  1863;  mustered  out  with  regiment 
May  24,  1863. 

ELMORE  H.  WELLS,  quartermaster-sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15, 
1862;  promoted  from  Co.  B  Aug.  26,  1862;  owing  to  prolonged 
sickness  in  hospital  returned  to  Co.  Jan.  i,  1863.  (See  Co.  B.) 

BROOKS  A.  BASS,  quartermaster-sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15, 
1862;  promoted  from  Co.  I  Jan.  i,  1863;  mustered  out  with 
regiment  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  F.  SALMON,  commissary-sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  13, 
1862;  promoted  from  Co.  G  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  at  Harper's 
Ferry,  Va.,  Oct.  16,  1862. 

WILLIAM  W.  COOLBAUGH,  commissary-sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug. 
15,  1862;  promoted  from  Co.  K  Oct.  17,  1862;  transferred  to  com 
pany  Dec.  25,  1862.  (See  Co.  K.) 

ALONZO  R.  CASE,  commissary-sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862; 
promoted  from  sergeant  Co.  C  Dec.  25,  1862;  mustered  out  with 
regiment  May  24,  1863. 

HORACE  A.  DEANS,  hospital  steward,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
promoted  from  Co.  I  Oct.  i,  1862;  transferred  to  ranks  April  i, 
1863.  (See  Co.  I.) 

MOSES  G.  CORWIN,  hospital  steward,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 
promoted  from  Co.  K  April  6,  1863;  mustered  out  with  regiment 
May  24,  1863. 

253 


Appendix 


COMPANY   A. 

JOSEPH  E.  SHREVE,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted 
to  major.  See  Field  and  Staff. 

CHARLES  C.  NORRIS,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted 
from  second  lieutenant  Nov.  i,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  W.  VANGILDER,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
discharged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Oct.  26,  1862. 

THOMAS  MAXWELL,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 
promoted  from  sergeant-major  Nov.  I,  1862;  mustered  out  with 
regiment. 

*  Bates's  History,  Pennsylvania  Volunteers,  places  here  the  name 
of  "  Charles  A.  Meylert,  second  lieutenant,  promoted  from  pri 
vate,  Co.  K,  Feb.  23,  1863,  missing  since  that  date."  Co.  K's  roll 
notes  the  transfer  of  this  man  to  Co.  A.  His  name  is  not  on  the 
original  roll  of  Co.  A,  and  is  therefore  omitted  here.  The  follow 
ing  note  received  from  Captain  Charles  C.  Norris,  Co.  A,  explains: 

PHILADELPHIA,  July  12,  1904. 
Colonel  F.  L.  HITCHCOCK,  Scranton,  Pa. 

MY  DEAR  COLONEL  :  ...  I  have  a  copy  of  the  muster-out  roll  of 
Co.  A,  to  which  I  have  referred.  ...  I  would  also  state  that  Charles 
A.  Meylert  does  not  appear  on  the  muster-out  roll,  nor  was  he  at 
any  time  carried  on  the  roll  of  Co.  A.  ...  On  the  march  from 
Harper's  Ferry  to  Warrenton,  Va.,  about  Nov.  i,  1862,  Co.  A  held 
an  election  for  officers  to  fill  vacancies  caused  by  the  promotion  of 
Captain  Shreve  to  be  major  of  the  regiment.  The  following  were 
elected:  Chas.  C.  Norris,  captain;  Thomas  Maxwell,  first  lieuten 
ant,  and  Edward  W.  Roderick,  second  lieutenant.  The  result  of 
this  election  was  forwarded  through  head-quarters  to  Governor 
Curtin.  The  commissions  were  not  sent  on  until  some  time  io 
December,  1862.  Colonel  Albright,  commanding  the  regiment,  sent 
for  me  one  day  and  told  me  he  had  received  a  commission  for 
Charles  A.  Meylert  as  second  lieutenant  of  Co.  A;  that  it  was  an 
outrage  upon  Co.  A,  and  that  he  would  send  it  back  to  Governor 
Curtin  with  a  letter,  which  I  believe  he  did,  the  result  of  which  was 
Roderick's  commission  was  issued  in  accordance  with  his  election, 
and  he  was  mustered  in,  and  Meylert's  commission  was  revoked. 

254 


Appendix 

ED.  W.  RODERICK,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 
promoted  from  private;  mustered  out  with  company. 

DAVID  SHUTT,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  promoted 
from  sergeant  March  I,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

J.  M.  HASSENPLUG,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

JOHN  S.  WARE,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted 
from  corporal  March  I,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

ISAAC  D.  CREWITT,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  promoted 
from  corporal  March  I,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

MICHAEL  KESSLER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  promoted 
from  private  March  6,  1863;  wounded  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec. 
13,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  LOVETT,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted 
from  private  Feb.  i,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JACOB  H.  MILLER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  discharged, 
Jan.  30,  1863,  at  Washington,  for  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Va., 
Sept.  17,  1862. 

JOSEPH  H.  NEVINS,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  March  6,  1863,  at  Baltimore,  Md. 

DANIEL  VANROUK,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

JACOB  REDFIELD,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted 
from  private  Sept.  18,  1862;  wounded  at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May 
3,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  WILLIAMS,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted 
from  private  Oct.  15,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

CONRAD  S.  ATEN,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted 
from  private  Dec.  3,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

As  the  commanding  officer  of  Co.  A,  I  never  received  any  official 
notice  or  record  of  Meylert's  commission  or  muster  into  service; 
hence  his  name  was  never  entered  upon  my  company  roll.     How 
Bates  came  to  place  his  name  upon  my  roll,  I  do  not  know. 
I  am  yours  truly, 

CHAS.  C.  NORRIS. 
255 


Appendix 

GEORGE  SNYDER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  absent,  sick, 
at  muster-out. 

ALEX.  HUNTINGTON,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  private  Feb.  I,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  STALL,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted 
from  private  Feb.  I,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

HENRY  VINCENT,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted 
from  private  March  6,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

JOHN  HARIG,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted  from 
private  March  6,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  FLICK,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  discharged 
at  Baltimore,  Md.,  Dec.  6,  1862,  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam 
Sept.  17,  1862. 

NATHAN  F.  LIGHTNER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  dis 
charged  at  Newark,  N.  J.,  on  surgeon's  certificate  Dec.  8,  1862. 

WM.  C.  McCoRMiCK,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  dis 
charged  March  I,  1863;  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg,  Va., 
Dec.  13,  1862. 

HENRY  L.  SHICK,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AMOS  APPLEMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SYLVESTER  W.  ARNWINE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 
wounded  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  ADAMS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  Sept. 
22  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

ARTHUR  W.  BEAVER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JACOB  J.  BOOKMILLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  wounded 
at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

FRANKLIN  G.  BLEE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JEREMIAH  BLACK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  H.  CARROLL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 

256 


Appendix 

wounded  at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;    mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  E.  COOPER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  deserted 
Oct.  22,  1862 ;  left  at  Bolivar  Heights,  Va. ;  sick,  failed  to  return 
to  company. 

FRANKLIN  DEVINE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  DAVIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  V.  DYE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  discharged 
at  Philadelphia  on  surgeon's  certificate  April  8,  1863. 

WILLIAM  EARP,  JR.,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  S.  EASTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HIRAM  EGGERT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  FEIDEL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  FLICKINGER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  B.  A.  FOIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  FOSTER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

C.  W.  FITZSIMMONS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  L.  FIELDS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  FRANCIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  discharged 
at  Harrisburg  on  surgeon's  certificate  Nov.  15,  1862. 

THOMAS  GOODALL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  GULICKS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  GIBSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed  at  Antie- 
tam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

JOSEPH  HALE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

17  257 


Appendix 

GEORGE  E.  HUNT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ADAM  HORNBERGER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

D.  HENDRICKSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  HILLNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

HIRAM  HUMMEL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

THOMAS  JONES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  JAMES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

W.  J.  W.  KLASE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  J.  P.  KLASE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

CONRAD  LECHTHALER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  left 
sick  at  Warrenton,  Va.,  Nov.  14,  1862;  reported  discharged;  no 
official  notice  received. 

SAMUEL  LANGER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  LEICHOW,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  discharged 
Oct.  28,  1862,  for  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

JACOB  LONG,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed  at  Antie 
tam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

WATKIN  MORGAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEVI  M.  MILLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JACOB  W.  MOVER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEONARD  MAYER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CORNELIUS  C.  MOVER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  MORRIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  wounded  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

258 


Appendix 

JOHN  McCoy,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  McKEE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted 
Aug.  16,  1862,  from  Harrisburg. 

WM.  B.  NEESE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  wounded  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

JAMES  M.  PHILLIPS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  P.  REASER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SIMON  REIDY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ISAAC  RANTZ,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DAVID  H.  RANK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  29,  1863. 

WM.  A.  RINGLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  discharged 
May  5,  1863,  for  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  September  17, 
1862. 

JONATHAN  RICE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed  at 
Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

WILLIAM  STEWART,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EDWARD  D.  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  SUNDAY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AUGUST  SCHRIEVER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  STINE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EDWIN  L.  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

OLIVER  B.  SWITZER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SHARP  M.  SNYDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AARON  SECHLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

259 


Appendix 

ARCHIBALD  VANDLING,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  dis 
charged  at  Harrisburg  on  surgeon's  certificate  Nov.  28,  1862. 

ANGUS  WRIGHT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ANDREW  WAUGH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  WALLACE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  left  sick  in 
hospital  at  Harper's  Ferry,  Va. ;  reported  discharged ;  no  official 
notice  received. 

SAMUEL  WOTE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MATTHEW  R.  WRIGHT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  killed 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

JAMES  D.  WRAY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  deserted 
Sept.  19,  1862. 

COMPANY    B. 

SMITH  W.  INGHAM,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  resigned 
on  surgeon's  certificate  at  Georgetown,  Sein.  Hospital,  Feb.  5,  1863. 

GEORGE  H.  EASTMAN,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  first  lieutenant  Feb.  8,  1863 ;  wounded  at  Chancellors- 
ville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ANSON  G.  CARPENTER,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ; 
promoted  from  second  lieutenant  Feb.  8,  1863;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

DEWITT  C.  KITCHEN,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n, 
1862 ;  promoted  to  first  sergeant  Sept.  18,  1862 ;  to  second  lieutenant 
Feb.  8,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  D.  SMITH,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  sergeant  Nov.  i,  1862;  to  first  sergeant  Feb.  8,  1863; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  D.  WARNER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  buried  in  National  Cemetery, 
Sec.  26,  Lot  A,  Grave  14. 

JONAS  H.  FARR,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  promoted 
from  corporal  Sept.  18,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

FREEMAN  H.  DIXON,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  cap 
tured  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  promoted  from  corporal 
Feb.  8,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

260 


Appendix 

JULIAN  W.  STELLWELL,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862; 
promoted  to  corporal  Sept.  12,  1862 ;  to  sergeant  Feb.  8,  1863 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ABNER  LEWIS,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  promoted 
from  private  Nov.  i,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

JOHN  H.  TENEYCK,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  buried  in  National  Cemetery, 
Sec.  26,  Lot  A,  Grave  15. 

JOHN  B.  OVERFIELD,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  W.  REYNOLDS,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Sept.  12,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

CALVIN  L.  BRIGGS,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Feb.  8,  1863;  wounded  at  Chancellorsville,  Va., 
May  3,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HANSOM  H.  CARRIER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Feb.  8,  1863 ;  wounded  at  Chancellorsville,  Va., 
May  3,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ISAAC  POLMATIEN,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  promoted 
to  corporal  Feb.  8,  1862;  wounded  at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May 
3,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  W.  SMITH,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  N.  COLVIN,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Feb.  8,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

PORTER  CARPENTER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Feb.  8,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

JAMES  N.  GARDNER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Nov.  23,  1862. 

OTIS  GILMORE,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  discharged  at  Ascension  Hos 
pital,  Washington,  D.  C,  on  surgeon's  certificate  December  23, 
1862. 

DECATUR  HEWETT,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  deserted 
April  n,  1863. 

261 


Appendix 

ANDREW  J.  LEWIS,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  prisoner 
of  war  from  May  3  to  May  22,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

ROBERT  L.  REYNOLDS,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pris 
oner  of  war  from  May  3  to  May  22,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

ELIAS  ATON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LOREN  BALL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  prisoner  of 
war  from  May  3  to  May  22,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  R.  BRIGGS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLARD  E.  BULLOCK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862,; 
wounded  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  BILLINGS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  BISHOP,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  killed  at 
Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

THOMAS  J.  CHASE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  absent 
in  hospital  since  Sept.  6,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

LEVI  CONKLIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  A.  CASTLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  A.  CARNEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

SETH  A.  COBB,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  II,  1862;  wounded  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May 

24,  1863. 

OLIVER  E.  CLARK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ADELBERT  COLVIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  discharged 
at  Harwood  Hospital,  Washington,  on  surgeon's  certificate  Sept. 

25,  1862. 

BENJAMIN  V.  COLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

262 


Appendix 

JEROME  E.  DETRICK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  C.  DEGRAW,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EZRA  DEAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  discharged  at 
Harwood  Hospital,  Washington,  on  surgeon's  certificate  Sept.  29, 
1862. 

CHARLES  EVANS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  II,  1862;  killed  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

JOHN  F.  EVANS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  died  at 
Acquia  Creek,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862 ;  buried  in  Military  Asylum  Ceme 
tery,  Washington,  D.  C. 

SYLVESTER  FARNHAM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ELISHA  FARNHAM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded 
with  loss  of  arm  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  discharged  on 
surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  i,  1863. 

DENNIS  D.  GARDNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ALONZO  E.  GREGORY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1863. 

PHILANDER  GROW,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  died  near 
Falmouth,  Va.,  Dec.  17,  1862. 

LESLIE  E.  HAWLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  left  sick 
at  Harper's  Ferry  Oct.  30,  1862,  discharged  but  received  no  official 
notice. 

SAMUEL  HOOPER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  M.  HINES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HARVEY  B.  HOWE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  discharged 
at  Acquia  Creek  Hospital  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  I,  1863. 

PETER  B.  HANYON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  discharged 
at  Convalescent  Camp  Hospital  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  15, 
1863. 

GEORGE  M.  HARDING,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  discharged  at  hospital, 
Washington,  on  surgeon's  certificate  March  10,  1863. 

BENJAMIN  H.  HANYON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  de 
serted  Sept.  17,  1862;  left  in  Smoketown  Hospital. 

263 


Appendix 

STEPHEN  T.  INGHAM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HORACE  JACKSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JUDSON  A.  JAYNE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MARTIN  V.  KENNEDY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SILAS  G.  LEWIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

FRANCIS  M.  LEWIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862,  and  at  Chancellorsville,  Va., 
May  3,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EZRA  A.  LAWBERT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ALVAH  LETTEEN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  discharged 
at  Fort  Wood  Hospital,  N.  Y.  Harbor,  on  surgeon's  certificate 
March  4,  1863. 

ALBANUS  LITTLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  absent  at  muster-out. 

URIAH  MOTT,  private,  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EMMET  J.  MATHEWSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  W.  MARTIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  dis 
charged  at  Hammond's  Hospital,  Point  Pleasant,  Md.,  on  surgeon's 
certificate  Jan.  6,  1863. 

WILSON  D.  MINOR,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  discharged  on  surgeon's  certifi 
cate  Nov.  I,  1862. 

THOMAS  S.  MOORE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  died  at 
Georgetown,  D.  C,  Oct.  14,  1862. 

OLIVER  C.  NEWBERG,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  11,  1862;  dis 
charged  at  Patent  Office,  400  F,  Washington,  D.  C.,  on  surgeon's 
certificate  Jan.  n,  1863. 

HORACE  O'NEAL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  ORNT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  killed  at  Antie 
tam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

ELISHA  PEDRICK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

264 


Appendix 

BYRON  PREVOST,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

CHARLES  PLATTENBURG,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

RUFUS  F.  PARRISH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  discharged  on  surgeon's  certifi 
cate  Feb.  25,  1863. 

REUBEN  PLATTENBURG,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  died 
at  Washington,  D.  C,  March  12,  1863. 

WILLIAM  H.  REYNOLDS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862; 
wounded  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  deserted  Oct.  20,  1862; 
returned  January  13,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

ALBERT  G.  REYNOLDS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  11,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

OLIVER  E.  REYNOLDS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

PERRY  T.  ROUGHT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WASHINGTON  L.  ROUGHT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862; 
discharged  at  Washington  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  12,  1863. 

MILOT  ROBERTS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  died  Sept. 
20  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

ESICK  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JEREMIAH  STANTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DAVIS  C.  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  left  in 
hospital  near  Falmouth  May  15,  1863;  absent  at  muster-out. 

WILLIAM  SHOEMAKER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ASA  SMERD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  left  sick  at  Belle 
Plains  Landing  Dec.  6,  1862;  absent  sick  at  muster-out. 

HARMAN  STARK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

WESLEY  J.  STARK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  deserted 
Nov.  20,  1862;  returned  March  12,  1863;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

265 


Appendix 

BURTON  SHOEMAKER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  dis 
charged  at  New  York  on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  6,  1863. 

JOHN  H.  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  killed  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  buried  in  National  Cemetery,  Sec. 
26,  Lot  A,  Grave  16. 

JOSEPH  W.  STANTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  left 
sick  at  Harper's  Ferry  Oct.  30,  1862;  deserted  from  hospital. 

JACOB  A.  THOMAS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

UTLEY  TURNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  discharged 
at  Philadelphia  on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  6,  1863. 

HENRY  B.  TURNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

W.  B.  VANARSDALE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ANDREW  M.  WANDLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  cap 
tured  at  Sniker's  Gap,  Va.,  Nov.  4,  1862,  prisoner  of  war  from 
Nov.  4  to  Dec.  24,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  WALL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

*  ELMORE  H.  WELLS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted 
to  quartermaster-sergeant  of  regiment  Aug.  26,  1862;  returned  to 
company  Jan.  I,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company. 

HIRAM  E.  WORDEN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

COMPANY   C. 

HERMAN  TOWNSEND,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  10,  1863. 

CHARLES  M.  McDouGAL,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
promoted  from  first  lieutenant  Jan.  10,  1863 ;  wounded  at  Fred- 
ericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

JAMES  A.  ROGERS,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862; 
promoted  from  sergeant  to  first  sergeant  Sept.  18,  1862;  to  first 
lieutenant  Jan.  10,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ANSON  C.  CRANMER,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
killed  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

*  Prolonged  illness  from  typhoid  fever. 
266 


Appendix 

LEVI  D.  LANDON,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862; 
promoted  from  first  sergeant  Sept.  18,  1862;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

RUSSELL  J.  Ross,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  corporal  Jan.  u,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

DEWITT  TEAVER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  11,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AMOS  W.  VANFLEET,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  corporal  Sept.  18,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

ANDREW  E.  WATTS,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Sept.  18,  1862;  to  sergeant  Jan.  n,  1863;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  W.  WILCOX,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  corporal  Oct.  I,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  C.  CRAVEN,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  5,  1863. 

ALONZO  R.  CASE,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  promoted 
to  commissary-sergeant  Dec.  25,  1862.  (See  Field  and  Staff.) 

H.  W.  PARKHURST,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  absent, 
sick,  at  muster-out. 

JOHN  A.  BLOOM,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  McCLURE,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  promoted 
to  corporal  Jan.  n,  1863;  wounded  at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May 
3,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LUCIEN  BOTHWELL,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Jan.  u,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

ELIJAH  R.  HICKOK,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  March  i,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

WALLACE  BIDDLE,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  15,  1863. 

SAMUEL  E.  BLANCH ARD,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  11,  1862; 
discharged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  16,  1863. 

MELVILLE  F.  EPHLINE,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

267 


Appendix 

WILLIAM  SPENCER,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ALLEN  M.  AYRES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  absent  sick  at  muster-out. 

HARRISON  B.  BENSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  BENNETT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MANNING  BAILEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AMOS  S.  BOOTHE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  absent 
sick  at  muster-out. 

JAMES  A.  BARNES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JEREMIAH  BAILEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Nov.  24,  1862. 

SAMUEL  H.  BARTLETT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  died 
at  Falmouth,  Va.,  Feb.  4,  1863. 

OLIVER  BLANCHARD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  died 
Sept.  24  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862; 
buried  in  National  Cemetery,  Sec.  26,  Lot  A,  Grave  181. 

LEROY  J.  CEASE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  D.  CROSS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

NATHAN  S.  DENMARK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEWIS  DARLING,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SIMEON  ELLIOTT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SYLVESTER  M.  GREEN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  GRAUTEER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

OSCAR  C.  GRISWOLD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AMBROSE  S.  GRAY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

268 


Appendix 

MARTIN  W.  GRAY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  11,  1862;    discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Dec.  22,  1862. 

HENRY  H.  HOAGLAND,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JASPER  N.  HOAGLAND,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   n,   1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ISAAC  N.  HARVEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  W.   HARVEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.    11,    1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  J.  HOWLAND,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

TRUMAN  HARRIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SOLON  J.  HICKOK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

STEPHEN  C.  HICKOK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   n,   1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  O.  HAZLETON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;    dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  April  20,  1863. 

WILLIAM   HAMILTON,   private,   mustered   in   Aug.    n,    1862;    dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  15,  1863. 

FRANCIS   HARRIS,   private,   mustered   in   Aug.    n,    1862;     died   at 
Le  Roy,   Pa.,  Jan.   18,   1863. 

JOHN  C.  HURLBURT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   n,   1862;    killed 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

SETH   HOWLAND,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.    u,   1862;    killed  at 
Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863. 

ANDREW  E.  HOAGLAND,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;    killed 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

WILLIAM  W.  HAXTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,   1862;    de 
serted  Sept.   17,  1862. 

SILICK  JUNE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   n,  1862;    mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,   1863. 

FREDERICK    KERRICK,    private,    mustered    in    Aug.    11,    1862;     dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  4,  1863. 

ROSCOE  S.  LOOMIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DAVID  P.  LINDLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,   1863. 

269 


Appendix 

SAMUEL  LINDLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  pris 
oner  of  war;  date  not  given;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

IRA  LINDLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  discharged 
April  29,  1863;  expiration  of  term. 

LEVI  R.  LESTER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  died  at 
Washington,  D.  C,  Feb.  9,  1863;  buried  in  Military  Asylum  Ceme 
tery. 

LEWIS  M.  LEONARD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  killed 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

GEORGE  MALLORY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Nov.  28,  1862. 

CHARLES  L.  MILES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  died  near 
Falmouth,  Va.,  May  12,  1863. 

LYMAN  R.  NEWELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  15,  1863. 

STEPHEN  A.  RANDALL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  H.  NEWELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  discharged 
Oct.  29,  1862,  on  surgeon's  certificate  of  disability. 

JOHN  RANDALL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  M.  ROGERS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JUDSON  A.  ROYSE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DE\VITT  C.  ROBINSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JEREMIAH  ROCKWELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  March  23,  1863. 

LYNDS  A.  SPENCER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  SOPER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  B.  STREETS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEO.  C.  SHOEMAKER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  SCHNADER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

270 


Appendix 

SOLOMON  STONE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  prisoner 
of  war;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEWIS  SELLARD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  9,  1863. 

DANIEL  W.  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  26,  1863. 

NATHAN  J.  SPENCER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  April  2,  1863. 

JAMES  M.  SNADER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Nov.  28,  1862. 

LUKE  P.  STREETER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Oct.  12,  1862. 

JEREMIAH  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  died  near 
Falmouth,  Va.,  Jan.  8,  1863. 

CHARLES  B.  THOMAS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  killed 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

GEORGE  M.  VAN  DYKE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863 

E.  G.  VAN  DYKE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  prisoner 
of  war ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LANING  N.  VARGASON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  u,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SEVELLON  A.  WILCOX,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JEFFERSON  A.  WITHERALL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862; 
mustered  out  with  company  Aug.  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  WALTER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHAUNCEY  W.  WHEELER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MERTON  C.  WRIGHT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  11,  1862;  dis 
charged  Sept.  n,  1862,  on  surgeon's  certificate. 

JOSEPH  N.  WRIGHT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  dis 
charged  Sept.  n,  1862,  on  surgeon's  certificate. 

ROSWELL  A.  WALKER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  n,  1862;  died 
at  Belle  Plain,  Va.,  Dec.  7,  1862. 


271 


Appendix 


COMPANY   D. 

CHARLES  H.  CHASE,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  resigned 
Dec.  6,  1862. 

W.  H.  CARNOCHAN,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  second  lieutenant  Nov.  29,  1862;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  E.  GLADDING,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14, 
1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company  Nov.  24,  1863. 

J.  W.  BROWN,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 
discharged  Aug.  20,  1862,  to  date  Aug.  14,  1862. 

F.  MARION  WELLS,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862; 
promoted  from  first  sergeant  Dec.  6,  1862;  wounded  with  loss  of 
leg  at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;  absent  in  hospital, at 
muster-out ;  died  a  few  days  later. 

WILLIAM  C.  COBB,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
promoted  to  first  sergeant  Feb.  6,  1863;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

ALVAH  L.  COOPER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  promoted 
from  corporal  Feb.  6,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

LERT  BALLARD,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ALBERT  LONG,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862 ;  promoted 
from  corporal  Jan.  29,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

ALBERT  S.  COBB,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  promoted 
from  corporal  Feb.  6,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

DANIEL  GRACE,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862 ;  promoted 
to  corporal  April  16,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

ALONZO  Ross,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1863 ;  promoted  to 
corporal  April  16,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ALBERT  PRESTON,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862 ;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  promoted  to  corporal  Feb. 
4,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company. 

JAMES  F.  CARMAN,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1863 ;  promoted 
to  corporal  Jan.  7,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company. 

ALBERT  O.  SCOTT,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  wounded 

272 


Appendix 

at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;    promoted  to  corporal  Feb. 
6,  1863;    mustered  out  with  company. 

FURMAN  BULLOCK,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862 ;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Feb.  6,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company. 

SAMUEL  HARKNESS,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  C.  McMAHON,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Oct.  14,  1862. 

ELIHU  B.  CHASE,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862 ;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Oct.  14,  1862. 

L.  N.  BURNHAM,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  died 
Nov.  14,  1862,  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862; 
buried  at  Chester,  Pa. 

HUBBARD  H.  WILLIAMS,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862; 
deserted  at  Washington,  D.  C.,  Nov.  10,  1862;  returned  May  i, 
1865 ;  discharged  by  General  Order  June  12,  1865. 

NATHANIEL  MATTOCK,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  H.  MOORE,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  6,  1863. 

STEPHEN  T.  HALL,  wagoner,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Aug.  15,  1862;  reduced  to  ranks  Feb.  6,  1863; 
mustered  out  with  company. 

JOHN  B.  ALEXANDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JULIAN  L.  ANDRUS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

NATHAN  E.  BAILEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  BOYCE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DARIUS  BULLOCK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  BOUGHTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany. 

WARREN  S.  BIXLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ELLIS  H.   BEST,  private,   mustered  in  Aug.   12,   1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 
18  273 


Appendix 

GEORGE  BENNETT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AARON  W.  BAILEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  20,  1863. 

OLIVER  E.  BLAKESLEE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  died 
at  Washington,  D.  C,  Jan.  23,  1863;  pneumonia. 

ORRIN  G.  BLAKESLEE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  died 
at  Harper's  Ferry,  Va.,  Nov.  19,  1862. 

WARREN  S.  BAILEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  deserted 
Oct.  3,  1862,  at  Harper's  Ferry. 

RICHARD  W.  CANEDY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  M.  CLARK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  CARMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  O.  DARK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHRISTOPHER  DENMARK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862; 
wounded  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

REUBEN  DUDLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  March  i,  1863. 

PETER  FULLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  wounded  at 
Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863 ;  in  hospital  at  muster-out. 

GEORGE  FIELDS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  wounded  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

LEANDER  L.  GREGORY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  C.  GEROULD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  died 
Oct.  14  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

RICHARD  M.  HOWLAND,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  W.  HOWLAND,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JEROME  S.  HILL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  W.  HARDY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

274 


Appendix 

MARTIN  HARKNESS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Dec.  16,  1862. 

BENJAMIN  F.  JONES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEWIS  W.  JONES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

RICHARD  M.  JOHNSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  de 
serted  Sept.  14,  1862. 

ALVAH  M.  KENT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  LEE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEWIS  LAURENT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

FESTUS  LYON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  A.  MORES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  F.  MORLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GOPHAR  MORGAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Nov.  20,  1862. 

ABNER  MILLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Dec.  31,  1862. 

JOHN  MCGREGOR,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  W.  MCALISTER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  N.  MCALISTER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  de 
serted  Sept.  14,  1862;  returned  March  31,  1863;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MICHAEL  E.  MC!NTOSH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862; 
prisoner  of  war  from  Nov.  14  to  Dec.  14,  1862;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

ORRIN  P.  MCALLISTER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Dec.  18,  1862. 

SAMUEL  R.  McMAHON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862; 
killed  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

ISAAC  P.  MclNTYRE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  died 

275 


Appendix 

near  Falmouth,  Va.,  Dec.  22,  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg, 
Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

WILLIAM  F.  NEWELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   12,  1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,   1863. 

HENRY   A.   NEWELL,  private,   mustered  in  Aug.    12,    1862 ;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHESTER  NORTHROP,  private,  mustered   in   Aug.    12,    1862 ;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM    PEET,  private,  mustered   in  Aug.    12,   1862;    absent  in 
hospital  at  muster-out. 

JAMES  PATTERSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

RICHARD  W.  PHILLIPS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HOMER  T.  RHODES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  J.  RUSSELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862 ;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

S.  CHENEY  ROBY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862 ;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

NEHEMIAH  ROBINSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.    12,   1862;    de 
serted  at  Frederick  City,  Md.,   Sept.   14,   1862. 

CHARLES  N.   SMITH,  private,  mustered   in  Aug.   12,   1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

BYRON  B.  SLADE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   13,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,   1863. 

NORMAN  C.  SHEPHERD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EDWARD    C.    STRONG,   private,    mustered    in   Aug.    13,    1862;     dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.   7,   1863. 

BARLOW    SMITH,   private,   mustered    in   Aug.    12,    1862;     died   at 
Harper's  Ferry,  Va.,  Nov.  12,  1862. 

CONRAD  SCHANTZ,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;   deserted  at 
Harrisburg  Aug.  15,  1862. 

J.   O.  VAN   BUSKERK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   13,   1862;    dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  6,  1863. 

JOSEPH  S.  WILCOX,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

BARNUM  WILCOX,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

276 


Appendix 

NORMAN  WILCOX,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  wounded 
at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

NATHAN  WILCOX,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862,  and  at  Chancellorsville,  Va., 
May  3,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

IRA  V.  WILLIAMS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  12,  1862;  wounded 
at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  W.  WHIPPLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
wounded  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  WILLIAMS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Oct.  14,  1862. 

EZRA  H.  WELCH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  died  at 
Belle  Plain,  Va.,  Dec.  4,  1862. 

W.  H.  WOODWORTH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  died  at 
Falmouth,  Va.,  Jan.  9,  1863. 

MARTIN  WEST,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  deserted 
October,  1862. 

COMPANY    E. 

MICHAEL  WHITMOYER,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ANDREW  C.  MENSCH,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

D.  RAMSEY  MELICK,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15, 
1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  A.  BARTON,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  H.  GILMORE,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  J.  RENN,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  P.  SLOAN,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  corporal  Jan.  10,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

ISAAC  N.  KLINE,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  promoted 
from  corporal  Jan.  10,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

277 


Appendix 


BENJAMIN  F.  JOHNSTON,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CLARK  KRESSLER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  M.  JOHNSTON,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EPHRAIM  N.  KLINE,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EDWARD  C.  GREEN,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Nov.  10,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

JOHN  N.  HUGHES,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Jan.  10,  1863. ;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

JAMES  B.  FORTNER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Jan.  10,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  WOOD,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  promoted 
to  corporal  Feb.  25,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  C.  ROBINSON,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
discharged  at  Harper's  Ferry  on  surgeon's  certificate  Oct.  26, 
1862. 

JAMES  P.  MELICK,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  died  at 
Washington,  D.  C.,  Dec.  28,  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericks- 
burg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

CLINTON  W.  NEAL,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  quartermaster  Aug.  22,  1862.  (See  Field  and  Staff.) 

JOHN  STALEY,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AZIMA  V.  HOWER,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  29,  1863. 

TILLMAN  FAUX,  wagoner,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  23,  1863. 

LAFAYE  APPLEGATE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEONARD  BEAGLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HIRAM  H.  BRODT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

278 


Appendix 

JACOB  W.  BOMBOY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  S.  BOMBOY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EDWARD  W.  COLEMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  W.  COOK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  CADMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

PETER  O.  CRIST,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  CROOP,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  discharged  on 
surgeon's  certificate  Oct.  8,  1862. 

THOMAS  CAROTHERS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  15,  1863. 

ABEL  DEILY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  MOORE  EVES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  F.  ECK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MOSES  J.  FRENCH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CLOD'Y  S.  M.  FISHER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  wound 
ed  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  A.  FOLK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ROBERT  GILLASPY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  P.  GUILDS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CLINTON  C.  HUGHES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  C.  HARTMAN,  SR.,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

C.  H.  HENDERSHOT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

279 


Appendix 

WILLIAM  H.  HUNTER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  C.  HARTMAN,  JR.,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  HARDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  prisoner 
from  Dec.  13,  1862,  to  May  22,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

ADAM  HEIST,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  W.  HOWELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  HARP,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  13,  1863. 

ISAIAH  S.  HARTMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  diecl 
Oct.  16  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

JESSE  M.  HOWELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  near 
Falmouth,  Va.,  Jan.  8,  1863. 

JOSEPH  S.  HAYMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  de 
serted  Aug.  30,  1862. 

SAMUEL  R.  JOHNSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HIRAM  F.  KLINE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  O.  KLINE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  C.  KRICKBAUM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AMOS  Y.  KISNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  M.  KLINE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AUGUSTUS  M.  KURTZ,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

FRANCIS  M.  LUTZ,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ISAAC  M.  LYONS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  W.  LYONS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  absent 
sick  in  hospital  since  Oct.  30,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

280 


Appendix 

JOSEPH  LAWTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  LAWTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  LAZARUS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

DANIEL  MARKLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEMUEL  MOOD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  MUFFLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CLARK  PRICE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEVI  H.  PRIEST,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

OLIVER  PALMER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  PENROSE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  missed  in 
action  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

DAVID  RUCKLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSIAH  REEDY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  wounded  at 
Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  ROADARMEL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ISAAC  ROADARMEL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JEREMIAH  REESE,  private,  mustered  in  Sept.  3,  1862;  captured 
at  Chancellorsville,  Va. ;  prisoner  from  May  3  to  May  22,  1863 ; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JONATHAN  W.  SNYDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  W.  SNYDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSIAH  STILES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  absent,  sick 
in  hospital  since  Sept.  16,  1862. 

FREDERICK  M.  STALEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

281 


Appendix 

GEORGE  W.  STERNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  H.  SANDS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  C.  SHAW,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  absent, 
sick,  at  muster-out. 

JAMES  F.  TRUMP,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  M.  VANHORNE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  died 
at  Washington,  D.  C.,  Feb.  16,  1863 ;  buried  in  Harmony  Burial 
Grounds,  D.  C. 

PHILIP  WATTS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AMASA  WHITENITE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

GOTTLIEB  WAGONER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GAYLORD  WHITMOYER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  17,  1863. 

SAMUEL  YOUNG,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

FRANKLIN  J.  R.  ZELLARS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

COMPANY    F. 

GEORGE  W.  WILHELM,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  dis 
charged  Dec.  5,  1862. 

JACOB  D.  LACIAR,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  promoted  from  second  lieuten 
ant  Jan.  5,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  MUSSELMAN,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
wounded  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  KERNS,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  corporal  to  sergeant  Sept.  22,  1862;  to  second  lieu 
tenant  Jan.  5,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

OLIVER  BRENEISER,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
wounded  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  and  at  Fredericksburg,  Va., 

282 


Appendix 

Dec.  13,  1862;  promoted  to  corporal  Sept.  22,  1862,  to  first  ser 
geant  Jan.  5,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JACOB  MILLER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  HOFF,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted  from 
corporal  Nov.  22,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

CHARLES  MACK,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted 
from  corporal  March  I,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

JOHN  SHERRY,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

OLIVER  F.  MUSSELMAN,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
killed  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

F.  C.  WINTEMUTE,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Aug.  18,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

DAVID  M.  JONES,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ALBERT  E.  SHEETS,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  MINER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  R.  REX,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Nov.  22,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

LEWIS  TRAINER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted 
to  corporal  Nov.  22,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

JOHN  SCHULTZ,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  promoted  to  corporal  Jan.  2, 
1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  SCHADEL,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  at 
Belle  Plain,  Va.,  Nov.  28,  1862. 

GEORGE  W.  DURYEA,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  de 
serted  Aug.  16,  1862,  from  Camp  Curtin. 

EDWIN  SEYFRIED,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  25,  1863. 

BAR'T  ARMBRUSTER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 


Appendix 

DAVID  ARNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  ALLEN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  captured 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

AUGUST  BELSNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  BAKER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  BARTLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted 
Sept.  12,  1862,  near  Rockville,  Md. 

STEPHEN  CUNFER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  CHRISTINE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  L.  CLEWELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  at 
Harper's  Ferry,  Va.,  Oct.  I  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md., 
Sept.  17,  1862. 

CHAS.  S.  DREISBACH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  B.  DREISBACH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  DRUMBORE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  dis 
charged  Jan.  13,  1863,  for  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept 
17,  1862. 

PETER  EVERTS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  EVERTS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

JONATHAN  ECK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  EVERTS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  13,  1863. 

OWEN  C.  FULLWEILER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  ab 
sent,  sick,  at  muster-out. 

AMON  FRITZ,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded  at 
Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

284 


Appendix 

LEWIS  FREDERICK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  FRANTZ,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  absent,  sick,  at  muster-out. 

AARON  H.  GUMBARD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  GROW,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  H.  GEARHARD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  dis 
charged  March  10,  1863,  for  wounds  "received  at  Fredericksburg, 
Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

SAMUEL  GROW,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  Dec. 
21  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862; 
buried  at  Alexandria;  Grave  630. 

JOSEPH  HONTZ,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

OLIVER  HOFF,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

FREDERICK  HOSLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  W.  HOTTENSTEIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  HOUSER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SEBASTIAN  HON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  HILLS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted  Aug. 
16,  1862,  from  Camp  Curtin. 

ALEX.  JOHNSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  KEENE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EDWIN  KEMMERER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  KISTLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded, 
with  loss  of  arm,  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  dis 
charged,  date  unknown. 

DANIEL  KRESSLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  15,  1863. 

285 


Appendix 

SAMUEL  D.  LYNN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

LEV:  M.  LEVY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  25,  1863. 

JOHN  LENTS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  Jan.  2, 
1863,  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

FRANCIS  H.  MOSER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MONROE  MARTIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ALEXANDER  MILLS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Sept.  29,  1862. 

CHARLES  F.  MOYER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  cfied 
Sept.  22  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

SAMUEL  McCANCE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  McGEE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JACOB  NOTESTEIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

VALENTINE  NEUMOYER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MOSES  NEYER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  E.  NACE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  Jan.  2, 
1863,  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

ENOS  OLWERSTEFLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wound 
ed  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

CHAS.  A.  PATTERSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JACOB  RODFINK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEOPOLD  RICE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JACOB  RIDLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AARON  REX,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded  at 
Antietam  Sept.  17,  1862;  died  at  Smoketown,  Md.,  Nov.  n,  1862. 

286 


Appendix 

CHAS.  W.  RAMALEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died 
at  Windmill  Point,  Va.,  Jan.  27,  1863. 

PAUL  SOLT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  S.  SIEGFRIED,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSIAH  SANDEL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  STEIGERWALT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEWIS  STEIGERWALT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wound 
ed  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  SINKER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May 

24,  1863. 

JACOB  STROUSE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded  at 
Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

OTTO  STERNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   15,  1862;    died  March 

25,  1863,  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 
FRANCIS  SOLT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    died  Sept.  14, 

1862,  at  Frederick  City,  Md. 

HENRY  WERNSTEIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

COMPANY   G. 

ROBERT  A.  ABBOTT,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862 ;  discharged 
Jan.  13,  1863,  for  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

ISAAC  HOWARD,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted 
from  private  to  first  sergeant  Jan.  i,  1863,  to  captain  Jan.  14,  1863; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  C.  DOLAN,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
wounded  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  discharged  on  sur 
geon's  certificate  Jan.  30,  1863. 

WILLIAM  H.  FULTON,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
promoted  from  sergeant  March  17,  1863;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

EDMUND  H.  SALKELD,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15, 

287 


Appendix 


1862;  discharged  March  17,  1863,  for  wounds  received  at  Fred- 
ericksburg,  Md.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

JOHN  WEISS,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  sergeant  March  17,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  SIMONS,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  corporal  Feb.  12,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

THEOP.  WILLIAMS,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  private  to  sergeant,  to  first  sergeant  Nov.  13,  1862 ; 
killed  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

JOHN  I.  C.  WILLIAMS,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
wounded  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSHUA  BUTLER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted 
from  corporal  Jan.  14,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

WILLIAM  RADCLIFF,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Feb.  16,  1863;  to  sergeant  March  17,  1863;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  WEISS,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted 
to  corporal,  to  sergeant  Feb.  15,  1863;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  GRAVER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Sept.  9,  1862. 

GEORGE  RASE,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted 
Sept.  5,  1862,  at  Camp  Whipple. 

JOHN  OSBORN,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded, 
with  loss  of  leg,  at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;  discharged, 
date  not  given. 

DAVID  GABRET,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  J.  SPRINGER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  LESLIE,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HUGH  COLLAN,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  13,  1862 ;  promoted 
to  corporal  Feb.  26,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

PETER  LEASER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted  to 
corporal  Feb.  26,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

288 


Appendix 

WILLIAM  H.  NOBLE,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  4,  1863. 

ELIJAH  YOUTZ,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Dec.  22,  1862. 

CHARLES  ABNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  BACKERT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  BUCK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted 
August  16,  1862,  at  Camp  Curtin. 

JOSEPH  CONLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

PETER  CASSADY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  CALLAHAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  DAVIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

BERNARD  DEMPSEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  DERBYSHIRE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MICHAEL  DOUGHERTY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

W.  M.  DARLINGTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  at 
Washington,  D.  C,  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg,  Va., 
Dec.  13,  1862. 

PATRICK  ELLIOTT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  EARLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  31,  1863. 

JOHN  EPHLIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  killed  at  Fred 
ericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  31.  1862. 

PATRICK  FLEMING,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CONRAD  FRY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
Dec.  9  for  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

ANDREW  FLOYD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  near 
Falmouth,  Va.,  March  2,  1863. 

19  289 


Appendix 

CHARLES  HOLMES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  HAY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MORGAN  JENKINS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHRISTIAN  KLINGLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MATTHEW  KELLEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  F.  KLOTZ,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  F.  KLOTZ,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  captured 
Dec.  12,  1862;  absent,  at  camp  parole,  Annapolis,  Md.,  at  muster- 
out. 

BERNARD  KELLY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLOUGHBY  KOONS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  absent  at  muster-out. 

JOHN  KNAUSS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  16,  1863. 

WILLIAM  F.  KRUM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  at 
Smoketown,  Md.,  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam  Sept.  17,  1862; 
buried  in  National  Cemetery,  Sec.  26,  Lot  B,  Grave  180. 

HENRY  LANGE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  LEED,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JONAS  LOCKE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Dec.  24,  1862. 

HENRY  MANSFIELD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JONATHAN  L.  MILLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MANNES  MAYER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  at 
Smoketown,  Md.,  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

EDWARD  P.  MEELICK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

LUKE  MASTERSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted 
Aug.  16,  1862,  at  Camp  Curtin. 

290 


Appendix 

JOHN  McGovERN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    discharged 
April  10,  1863,  for  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

MICHAEL  McCuLLOUGH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;   killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.   17,  1862. 

JAMES  PATTERSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ALFRED  POH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   15,   1862;    mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MICHAEL  REILY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.    15,   1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,   1863. 

HUGH  REILY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   15,   1862;    mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HUGO  RONEMUS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.    15,   1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JONATHAN  C.  RUCH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    died  at 
Smoketown,  Md.,  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

THOMAS    RIGBY,   private,   mustered   in    Aug.    15,    1862;     deserted 
Sept.  n,  1862,  at  Boonsborough,  Md. 

PAUL  SOWERWINE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DAVID   SHAFFER,  private,   mustered  in   Aug.    15,    1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JACOB  SHINGLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   15,   1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

BERNHARD  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  SMITHAM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ROBERT  SYNARD,  private,   mustered   in   Aug.    15,    1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  STACY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   15,   1862;    mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  SCHOONOVER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

H.  B.  SCHOONOVER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  F.  SALMON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    promoted 
to  commissary-sergeant  Aug.  15,  1862. 

THOMAS  SPROLL,  wagoner,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.   17,  1862;    absent  at  muster-out. 

291 


Appendix 

JOHN  TONER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;    deserted  Aug. 

16,  1862,  Camp  Curtin. 

JOHN  WEISLY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WEAVER  TILGHMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  WINTERSTEEN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  dis 
charged  Feb.  28,  1863,  for  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept. 

17,  1862. 

MICHAEL  WELSH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  March  20,  1863. 

RUFUS  WALTERS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted 
Aug.  16,  1862,  Camp  Curtin. 

EDWARD  YEMMONS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustened 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

COMPANY   H. 

GEORGE  W.  JOHN,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  16,  1862;  resigned 
Dec.  9,  1862. 

MARTIN  M.  BROBST,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  16,  1862 ;  promoted 
from  first  lieutenant  Dec.  9,  iC63 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

ISAIAH  W.  WILLITS,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ; 
promoted  from  first  sergeant  Dec.  9,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  H.  HOAGLAND,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  16, 
1862;  died  Dec.  14  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg,  Va., 
Dec.  13,  1862. 

P.  R.  MARGERUM,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 
promoted  from  corporal  Dec.  16,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

A.  H.  SHARPLESS,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  corporal  Dec.  16,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  F.  SAVORY,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  REEDY,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted  to 
corporal  Jan.  22,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HIRAM  W.  BROWN,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  promoted 
to  corporal  Jan.  22,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

292 


Appendix 

WILLIAM  McNEAL,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THEODORE  KREIGH,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ROLANDUS  HERBINE,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  J.  FREDERICK,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

FRANCIS  M.  THOMAS,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 
wounded  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  P.  HOAGLAND,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Nov.  21,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

EPHRAIM  L.  KRAMER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Jan.  20,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

D.  HOLLINGSHEAD,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  promoted 
to  corporal  Jan.  20,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

THEOBALD  FIELDS,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted 
to  corporal  Jan.  20,  1863 ;  wounded  at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3, 
1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  HARBER,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

BURTON  W.  FORTNER,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MORGAN  G.  DRUM,  wagoner,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

H.  H.  BRUMBACH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  R.  BROBST,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  H.  BERGER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  wounded 
at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  BEAVER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  BRUMBACH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

293 


Appendix 

JOHN   BELL,  private,  mustered   in  Aug.    14,   1862;    mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JULIUS    A.    BARRETT,   private,   mustered   in   Aug.    14,    1862;     dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  31,  1863. 

JOHN  BATES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;    discharged  on 
surgeon's  certificate  February,  1863. 

WILLIAM  J.  BRUMBACH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;    dis 
charged  Feb.  2,  1863. 

CHRISTIAN  CLEWELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   14,   1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

PHINEAS   COOL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   14,   1862;    discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  January,   1863. 

HIRAM    COOL,    private,    mustered    in    Aug.    14,    1862;     discharged 
January,  1863,  for  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

JOHN  DILLON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;    mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  H.  DYER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;    died  at 
Belle  Plain,  Va.,  December,  1862. 

JOHN  DERR,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;    killed  at  Fred- 
ericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

ALBERT  ERWINE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  at  Belle 
Plain,  Va.,  Dec.  15,  1862;  buried  in  Military  Asylum  Cemetery,  D.  C. 

WILLIAM  FETTERMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  FETTERMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.    14,   1862;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHRISTOPHER  M.  FEDDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;   mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  B.   FORTNER,  private,  mustered  in   Aug.   14,    1862 ;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,   1863. 

SAMUEL  A.  FIELDS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LLOYD  W.  B.  FISHER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.   14,  1862 ;    mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JACOB  G.  FISHER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;    mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  D.  FINCHER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;    discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate,  date  unknown. 

SCOTT  HITE,  private,   mustered  in   Aug.    14,    1862;    mustered   out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

294 


Appendix 

JOHN  HAMPTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  absent, 
sick,  at  muster-out. 

ARTHUR  HARDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  E.  HARDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ETHAN  HAMPTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

W.  H.  H.  HARTMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  April  12,  1863. 

CLARK  HARDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  discharged  on 
surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  21,  1863. 

GEORGE  H.  HANKINS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died 
Oct.  4;  bu.  rec.,  Oct.  10;  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md., 
Sept.  17,  1862;  buried  in  National  Cemetery,  Sec.  26,  Lot  B,  Grave 
221. 

HENRY  T.  JOHN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  E.  JOHN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JEREMIAH  S.  KREIGH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EDWARD  KRAMER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

RALPH  M.  LASHELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EMANUEL  L.  LEWIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  LUDWIG,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mu-stered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  P.  MARGERUM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  MARKS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  MARTZ,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ADAM  R.  MENSCH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

COMODORE  P.  MEARS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

295 


Appendix 

CHARLES  MALONEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ISAIAH  W.  MASTELLAR,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

PATRICK  McGRAW,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  died  at 
Warrenton,  Va.,  Nov.  6,  1862. 

JOHN  F.  OHL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

IRVIN  C.  PAYNE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  J.  D.  PARKS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died 
Dec.  28  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862; 
buried  in  Military  Asylum  Cemetery,  D.  C. 

DAVID  PHILLIPS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed  at 
Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

TOBIAS  RINARD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

FREDERICK  REESE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LLOYD  T.  RIDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ELIAS  C.  RISHEL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  J.  ROBBINS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JEREMIAH  RHODES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  absent, 
sick,  at  muster-out. 

WESLEY  RIDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  at  Belle 
Plain,  Va.,  December,  1862. 

JAMES  M.  RICHARDS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

JOSIAH  G.  ROUP,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  of 
wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

BENJAMIN  B.  SCHMICK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  S.  SCHMICK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JEREMIAH  H.  SNYDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  ab 
sent,  sick,  at  muster-out. 

296 


Appendix 

CLARK  B.  STEWART,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  H.  STOKES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JESSE  SHOEMAKER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  M.  SANKS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  discharged 
by  special  order  Oct.  14,  1862. 

GEORGE  F.  STERNE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

CHRISTIAN  SMALL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  killed  at 
Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863. 

LEWIS  THIELE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  M.  THOMAS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died 
at  Falmouth,  Va.,  Jan.  8,  1863. 

JOHN  TROUP,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  Oct.  4  of 
wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

DENNIS  WATERS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ROBERT  M.  WATKINS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MONROE  C.  WARN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  L.  YEAGER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  17,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 


COMPANY    I. 

JAMES  ARCHBALD,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  18,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  7,  1863. 

PHILIP  S.  HALL,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  18,  1862;  promoted 
from  second  lieutenant  Jan.  14,  1863;  wounded  at  Chancellors 
ville  May  4,  1863 ;  absent  in  hospital  at  muster-out. 

ROBERT  R.  MEILLER,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  18,  1862; 
discharged  Jan.  7,  1863,  for  disability. 

BENJAMIN  GARDNER,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862 ; 
promoted  from  sergeant  Jan.  14,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

297 


Appendix 

MICHAEL  HOUSER,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
promoted  from  private  Jan.  14,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  A.  WOLCOTT,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
promoted  from  corporal  Jan.  14,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  W.  CONKLIN,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862; 
discharged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  18,  1863. 

JOHN  M.  MILLER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  JONES,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ISAAC  CORNELL,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted 
from  corporal  Jan.  14, 1863  ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ABRAM  BITTENBENDER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  corporal  Jan.  14,  1863 ;  prisoner  from  May  6  to  May 
22,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ORLANDO  TAYLOR,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Dec.  4,  1862. 

ALFRED  J.  BARNES,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  SHARPE,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  taken  pris 
oner  at  Hillsboro,  Va.,  Nov.  8,  1862,  exchanged  Jan.  I,  1863 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

OWEN  J.  BRADFORD,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  H.  HAGAR,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Jan.  4,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

REED  G.  LEWIS,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted  to 
corporal  April  15,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  A.  SARGENT,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Jan.  14,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

ROBERT  GRAY,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Oct.  6,  1862. 

DANIEL  S.  GARDNER,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

ORRIN  C.  HUBBARD,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

298 


Appendix 

THEODORE  KEIFER,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  S.  QUINLAIN,  wagoner,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  ALLEN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MOSES  H.  AMES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  killed  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

GEORGE  L.  BRADFORD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  BRACY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  BURNISH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

NATHANIEL  D.  BARNES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  BARROWMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  BARROWMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

BROOKS  A.  BASS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted 
to  quartermaster-sergeant  Jan.  i,  1863.  (See  Field  and  Staff.) 

MILTON  BROWN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  16,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEWIS  A.  BINGHAM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted 
Jan.  i,  1863;  returned  March  27,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  BERRY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
at  Fort  Wood  Hospital,  N.  Y.  Harbor,  on  surgeon's  certificate 
March  13,  1863. 

ABIJAH  BERSH,  JR.,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted 
Sept.  19,  1862. 

BURTON  J.  CAPWELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  CARHART,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate,  date  unknown. 

GEORGE  H.  CATOR,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  Oct. 
30  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  buried 
in  National  Cemetery,  Sec.  26,  Lot  C,  Grave  228. 

299 


Appendix 

HORACE  A.  DEANS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  promoted 
to  hospital  steward  Oct.  I,  1862;  returned  to  company  April  6, 
1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

FREDERICK  M.  ELLTING,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

H.  L.  ELMANDORF,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted 
at  Warrenton,  Va.,  Nov.  15,  1862. 

EDWARD  FERRIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded  at 
Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  FERN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  E.  FULLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  M.  FULLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

BENTON  V.  FINN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  19,  1863. 

JOHN  FINCH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged  on 
surgeon's  certificate  March  28,  1863. 

WILLIAM  GUNSAULER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  GAHN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862 ;  wounded  at  Freder- 
icksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ELISHA  R.  HARRIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  HUBBARD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

J.  HIPPENHAMMER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  16,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  HAMM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

RICHARD  HALL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  H.  HARRISON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  P.  HALSTEAD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  5,  1863. 

WILLIAM  HAZLETT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862 ;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Jan.  2,  1863. 

300 


Appendix 

JOHN  L.  HUNT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted  at 
Acquia  Creek,  Va.,  Feb.  15,  1863. 

RODERICK  JONES,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  absent,  in  hospital,  at  muster-out. 

JOHN  J.  KILMER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

H.  L.  KRIGBAUM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

MICHAEL  KELLY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  C.  LANNING,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

THOMAS  Z.  LAKE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LYMAN  MILROY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  prisoner 
from  May  6  to  May  22,  1863  ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

GEORGE  MEUCHLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  J.  MAYCOCK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

STEPHEN  MOOMEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  H.  MILLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ROBERT  O.  MOSCRIP,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  S.  MORSE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Oct.  29,  1862. 

JOSEPH  NIVER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AARON  ORREN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  OWEN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  discharged  on 
surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  n,  1863. 

JOHN  E.  POWELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  captured  at 
Chancellorsville,  Va. ;  prisoner  from  May  6  to  May  22,  1863 ; 
mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

301 


Appendix 

CHARLES  PONTUS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  A.  PARKER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted  at 
Harper's  Ferry,  Va.,  Oct.  29,  1862. 

FREEMAN  J.  ROPER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ELEZER  RAYMOND,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

NELSON  RAYMOND,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded  at 
Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863 ;  absent,  in  hospital,  at  muster-out. 

JAMES  S.  RANDOLPH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  dis- 
chared  on  surggeon's  certificate  Jan.  21,  1863. 

GEORGE  W.  RIDGEWAY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate,  date  unknown. 

DANIEL  REED,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  killed  at  Antie- 
tam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

WILLIAM  H.  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  H.  SEELEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LATON  SLOCUM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MICHAEL  SISK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  SOMMERS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

RICHARD  A.  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  Oct. 
15  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

ORVICE  SHARP,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  died  Nov. 
16,  1862. 

REILY  S.  TANNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  L.  TUTHILL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  prisoner 
from  May  6  to  May  22,  1863  5  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 
1863. 

HENRY  VUSLER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  deserted 
Sept.  18,  1862. 

DAVID  J.  WOODRUFF,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

302 


Appendix 

SAMUEL  WIGGINS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  WINNICH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

BURR  C.  WARNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  B.  WEST,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  killed  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

HARRISON  YOUNG,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

COMPANY    K. 

RICHARD  STILL  WELL,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  18,  1862 ;  dis 
charged  March  31,  1863,  for  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg, 
Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

JACOB  B.  FLOYD,  captain,  mustered  in  Aug.  18,  1862;  promoted 
from  first  lieutenant  March  31,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

NOAH  H.  JAY,  first  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  second  lieutenant  March  31,  1863;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

SYLVESTER  WARD,  second  lieutenant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 
promoted  from  sergeant  to  first  sergeant  Dec.  25,  1862;  to  second 
lieutenant  March  31,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

FRANCIS  ORCHARD,  first  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ; 
promoted  from  sergeant  March  31,  1863;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  M.  SNYDER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  pro 
moted  from  corporal  Sept.  24,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  BOTTSFORD,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  promoted 
from  corporal  Sept.  24,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24, 1863. 

WILLIAM  C.  KEISER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  pro 
moted  from  corporal  March  31,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

MARTIN  L.  HOWER,  sergeant,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died 
Oct.  17  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

PHILETUS  P.  COPELAND,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 
wounded  at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

303 


Appendix 

GEORGE  COURSEN,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  A.  KENT,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

GEORGE  W.  JOHNSON,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Sept.  24,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

JOHN  S.  SHORT,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted 
to  corporal  Sept.  24,  1862;  wounded  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec. 
13,  1862 ;  absent  in  hospital  at  muster-out. 

GEORGE  H.  TAYLOR,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  corporal  Sept.  24,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

EMIL  HAUGG,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted  to 
corporal  March  31,  1863;  mustered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AUSTIN  F.  CLAPP,  corporal,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted 
to  sergeant-major  Nov.  i,  1862.  (See  Field  and  Staff.) 

LORENZO  D.  KEMMERER,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  SILSBEE,  musician,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  M.  KAPP,  wagoner,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

AUGUSTUS  ASHTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  taken 
prisoner  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

DAVID  BROOKS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  H.  BOON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

LEWIS  H.  BOLTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ADOLF  BENDON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Dec.  6,  1862. 

CHARLES  A.  BULMER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Oct.  14,  1862. 

WILLIAM  H.  CARLING,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  pro 
moted  to  adjutant's  clerk  January  25,  1863;  mustered  out  with  com 
pany  May  24,  1863. 

304 


Appendix 

WILLIAM  W.  COOLBAUGH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862; 
wounded  at  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863;  mustered  out  with 
company  May  24,  1863. 

HARRISON  COOK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JACOB  M.  CORWIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  COOLBAUGH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  H.  COON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Nov.  29,  1862. 

MOSES  Y.  CORWIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  promoted 
to  hospital  steward  April  6,  1863.  (See  Field  and  Staff.) 

BENJAMIN  A.  C.  DAILY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

FRANCIS  J.  DEEMER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  promoted 
to  sergeant-major  Jan.  24,  1863.  (See  Field  and  Staff.) 

RICHARD  DAVIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  Jan. 
2,  1863,  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862; 
buried  in  Military  Asylum  Cemetery,  Washington,  D.  C. 

THOMAS  D.  DAVIS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  near 
Washington,  D.  C.,  Nov.  25,  1862 ;  buried  in  Military  Asylum  Ceme 
tery,  Washington,  D.  C. 

JACOB  ESCHENBACH,  private,  mustered  in  A.ug.  14,  1862 ;  killed 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

CHARLES  FREDERICK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  GABRIEL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  wounded  at 
Chancellorsville,  Va.,  May  3,  1863 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

JOHN  C.  HIGGINS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

PETER  HARRABAUM,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  H.  HAVENSTRITE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  HINDLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

EDWARD  F.  HENRY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  dis- 
20  305 


Appendix 

charged   from   Emory  Hospital,   Washington,   D.   C,   on   surgeon's 
certificate  Jan.  8,  1863. 

WILSON  HESS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  discharged 
on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  21,  1863. 

JOHN  P.  HEATH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  deserted  on 
march  from  Antietam  to  Harper's  Ferry,  Sept.  21,  1862. 

MICHAEL  KIVILIN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ROBERT  KENNEDY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JESSE  P.  KORTZ,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  near 
Falmouth,  Va.,  Dec.  25,  1862. 

GEORGE  W.  LINN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ANDREW  LANDSICKLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  LINDSEY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  MATZENBACHER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  W.  MEAD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  L.  MARCY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  B.  MACK,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  A.  MEYLERT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  pro 
moted  to  second  lieutenant  Co.  A,  Feb.  24,  1863. 

JEPTHA  MILLIGAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862 ;  killed  at 
Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862;  buried  in  National  Cemetery,  Sec. 
26,  Lot  A,  Grave  13. 

RICHARD  NAPE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  J.  NEWMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  R.  POWELL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  PELLMAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

306 


Appendix 

DOWNING  PARRY,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  RYAN,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SAMUEL  RUPLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SIMON  P.  RINGSDORF,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Feb.  6,  1863. 

GEORGE  SMITHING,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  M.  SEAGER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  W.  SCULL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOSEPH  SNYDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

SIMON  P.  SNYDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  D.  SNYDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

CHARLES  B.  SCOTT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

PETER  SEIGLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  SCOTT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WALTER  A.  SIDNER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

MARTIN  L.  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JAMES  STEVENS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  STITCHER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  discharged 
Nov.  28,  1862,  on  account  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam  Sept.  17, 
1862. 

ALLEN  SPARKS,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  Sept. 
18  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862. 

OBADIAH  SHERWOOD,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died 

307 


Appendix 


Nov.  20  at  Smoketown,  Md.,  of  wounds  received  at  Antietam  Sept. 
17,  1862. 

SAMUEL  S.  SNYDER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  at 
Philadelphia,  Pa.,  Jan.  9,  1863. 

JAMES  SCULL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  near 
Falmouth,  Va.,  Feb.  n,  1863. 

SOLON  SEARLE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  at  Acquia 
Creek,  Va.,  Jan.  26,  1863. 

ALONZO  L.  SLAWSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  dis 
charged,  date  unknown. 

LEANDER  J.  SMITH,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  deserted 
from  Camp  Whipple  Sept.  i,  1862. 

DAVID  VIPON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered  out 
with  company  May  24,  1863. 

GEORGE  C.  WILSON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  wounded 
at  Antietam,  Md.,  Sept.  17,  1862 ;  mustered  out  with  company  May 
24,  1863. 

MARTIN  WILMORE,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

ORESTES  B.  WRIGHT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  15,  1862;  wounded 
at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862;  mustered  out  with  company 
May  24,  1863. 

JOHN  WESTPHALL,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

HENRY  C.  WHITING,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  dis 
charged  on  surgeon's  certificate  Nov.  27,  1862. 

JOHN  W.  WRIGHT,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  at 
Harper's  Ferry,  Va.,  Oct.  23,  1862. 

ALBERT  WHEELER,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  deserted 
from  Walnut  Street  Hospital,  Harrisburg,  Dec.  19,  1862. 

CONRAD  YOUNG,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mustered 
out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

WILLIAM  H.  YOUNG,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

W.  L.  YARRINGTON,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  mus 
tered  out  with  company  May  24,  1863. 

DANIEL  C.  YOUNG,  private,  mustered  in  Aug.  14,  1862;  died  Dec. 
26  of  wounds  received  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  Dec.  13,  1862. 

308 


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APR  171841 

AU(S  10  IQJO 

«uu  ji/Ct  iy4j 

AUG  12  1943 

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1  DM'6QJC 

REC'D  L^ 

FFR  1  fi  ion 

r  u  o  j  o    |yij  | 

SENT  ON  iu_ 

SE?  1  5  1997 

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LD  21-100m-7,'40  (6936s) 

* 


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.5 


1 88232 


